Retrospect: Winter Memories
by FlyingBlueJay
Summary: Detective Ava Moreau has been through a lot in life and she understands more than anyone how the memories of the past can consume you. When she meets the Winter Soldier, Ava decides to help him, but things get complicated when a friend of hers – perhaps the only man with answers to Bucky's questions – is found tortured and murdered.
1. Friday, May 09, 2014

**This is an idea that's been floating in my head for ages so I finally sat down and wrote it. I have no idea if anyone wants to read something like this, but I'll give it a shot anyway. Enjoy.**

There is no refuge from memory and remorse in this world. The spirits of our foolish deeds haunt us, with or without repentance. – Gilbert Parker

**Chapter 01: Friday, May 09, 2014**

The office smelled of the old leather bindings of the books that filled the shelves. Stuffy, like the single window overlooking Washington Square Park hadn't been opened in a while. Ava could see the dust floating in the beam of the setting sun that filtered through the sheer white curtain. There was a faint note of perfume in the air. Chanel No. 5, she noted. She'd smelled it in this office several times before. The last time, however, had been one month, a week and three days ago.

"I thought you weren't seeing Caroline anymore," Ava said, turning to face the man behind the desk. Dr. Erving Allard was a stately man of fifty-four with gray hair and kind, dark eyes. Ava had met him during a dark time in her life. June 9, 2005, she recalled. A Thursday. Hot day, no rain.

He'd been her salvation and ever since then she'd sought him out whenever she'd required someone who understood. Or at least tried to understand. There was only so much he could comprehend. He was… normal.

"Well," Dr. Allard said, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I haven't for a while."

Ava smiled back at him. "I didn't have you pegged as an on-off kind of guy. Or rather," she revised, "I hadn't pegged Caroline as an on-off kind of woman."

"They're not exactly lining up anymore at our age, love," he replied. "Besides, I'm charming."

"You're British," Ava replied. "It's the accent. Makes everything you say sound like Shakespeare."

"That helps," he admitted. "But I'm assuming you're not here to discuss my love life." He motioned for her to sit in the chair in front of his desk and she moved towards it from her position at the door.

"No."

"How long before you're back on duty?" Allard asked.

"I have a week or two left before my leave of absence is up. But that won't do me any good if my doctor doesn't clear me for duty."

"Which he hasn't yet," Allard noted. Ava shook her head. "Do you believe you're ready for duty again?" he asked in his shrink voice, one eyebrow raised ever so slightly.

Ava opened her mouth to confirm it, but closed it again. She hadn't come here to tell Allard the same lies she'd told the police psychologist.

"Ava, you've gone through something horrifying," Allard said softly. "Anyone would be shaken by a trauma like that. And you especially." He leaned back in his chair, looking out the window as he thought for himself for a moment. "The first time I met you, you were a wreck. But you built yourself up again."

"With your help."

"You would have been fine without me eventually," he said, giving her a smile. "You just needed time. And you need time now. You take longer to put something like this behind you."

"But that's just it, I can't put things behind me," Ava said, closing her eyes. For a moment, she could see the restaurant again. The bright lights, the glass windows looking out at the street. She could hear laughter and mumbling at the tables around her and the distant shouts of the kitchen chef. She smelled the different foods the restaurant served, especially the lingering sent of curry from a dish a man at the table behind her had ordered. There was a sudden commotion to her right, people suddenly scrambling out of their chairs, shouting. A woman screaming…

"Ava?" Allard's voice tore her out of the vivid memory. She took a deep, shaking breath. It was like she'd been right there. It was always like that.

"Sorry, I was…" She wasn't quite sure how to finish that sentence.

"Back there?"

Ava nodded again and stood up. Reliving these memories always made her jittery. Like staying seated made her vulnerable to attack. Fish in a barrel. A sitting duck.

Instead, she moved over to the window and looked down at Washington Square Park. Classes were in progress, but there were still a few students outside to enjoy the warm May weather. She was too high up to recognize any faces though.

"I keep going there. Over and over. Before I go to sleep, when I wake up. Sometimes in my dreams." Her hand automatically came up to her chest. Despite the fairly warm day she'd chosen a shirt with a high neckline. She didn't like people seeing the new scar, a three-inch long, red line running down the length of her sternum between her breasts. It didn't look as severe anymore as it had the day she'd woken up from her emergency surgery, but her injuries still hurt whenever she moved her arms too quickly or took too deep a breath.

Her gaze fell onto a bench at the edge of the park and its single occupant, a man with a scruffy beard and shoulder-long, matted hair. It had rained the previous day and a bit earlier that day and everything was wet, including the bench, but the man didn't seem bothered by it. As a matter of fact, his clothes – jeans, dark gray jacket and a black baseball cap – looked pretty damp themselves.

"He's been here a few times," Allard said from right next to her, making Ava jump slightly. She hadn't noticed him approach. She rolled her eyes at her own lack of vigilance, deciding she'd been lying around at home far too long with nothing to do. It was time she started working again, whether she was fit for duty or not.

"Who?"

"That young man," he said, nodding towards the bench she'd been staring at herself. "Always the same clothes. I don't think he has anything else to wear."

"You think he's homeless?"

"I would say so, yes," Allard replied. "I've seen him sit in the back of a few of my lectures."

Ava looked back out at the stranger. Why would a homeless man be interested in lectures about neuroscience? "Has he bothered anyone?"

"Not to my knowledge. Just sits in there," Allard replied. "I get the feeling he's hoping for some kind of answer."

"An answer to what?"

Allard shrugged. "Whatever it is, I don't think he's satisfied."

"What are you teaching at the moment?" Ava asked.

"I've actually been lecturing on our work together. Memory storage and retrieval. Autobiographical memory. Differences in episodic and semantic retention," Allard said. "He seems interested. More so than half of my students, but he seems to be waiting for something specific."

"I wasn't aware you were using our studies as learning material." Not that she necessarily minded. Her condition wasn't exactly a secret. Her boss had made sure of that. His little star detective. The media loved her and her boss loved the media attention for his department.

"Well, not our studies specifically, just what I've discovered through them. They're just undergrads, after all. If they want the juicy bits they'll have to work for it."

Ava chuckled, her gaze drifting out the window again. A couple of pedestrians gave the stranger a wide berth as they walked by. "You can have him thrown out, you know. I don't think he's supposed to be here in the first place."

"Oh I know," Allard said, brushing it off with a wave of his hand. "I kind of like having at least one person awake while I talk. Bit dull to be the only one in the room to appreciate the sound of my own voice."

This time Ava had to laugh. "Fine, but do let me know if he's causing you any trouble. I've got some friends at the 6th precinct who can drop by."

"Something tells me that getting arrested is not what this one needs, but I'll keep it in mind."

Turning away from the window, Allard moved behind his desk and sat back down. Ava followed him, sitting down in her own chair. "I really wish I could help you more," Allard said. "As a friend, not just as a doctor."

"I'll deal with it," Ava stated. "I've dealt with other things, too. It's just too… new."

Allard nodded. "I know you can deal with it on your own. Given time. But you shouldn't have to. I'd be easier to have someone in your life that you can share these things with."

"I share it with you."

"Yes, you do, but we both know that's not the same. Is your father still in town?"

Ava shook her head. "He went back to Florida three weeks ago." About time, too. He'd been living with her since she'd been hurt and it had started to jar on her nerves. She loved her father, but since she'd finally gotten out of the hospital he'd been hovering over her day and night. Finally she'd convinced him that she was fine enough to take care of herself again.

"Did you talk to him about it?"

"God no," she replied. Her father had been a cop himself. He'd never liked his daughter going down the same path. Back when she'd studied pre-law at the University he'd been so proud, certain she'd become a lawyer. When she'd decided to go to the police academy instead of law school they'd argued about it for months. He knew the dangers of the job and he'd never wanted Ava to go through all that. Her recent injury had only reignited that argument. But Ava loved her job. It wasn't easy. But she was good at it. She'd been promoted to detective at the age of twenty-five, four years ago now, making her the youngest member in the Brooklyn Homicide Division. Also the only woman. There was talk of her rising to lieutenant in just a handful of years, maybe even captain. There was no quitting for her now.

"Find someone to talk to," Allard said. "Or, if you don't want to talk, at least someone who's there when you need them."

"Yes, I meet so many great guys at work," Ava replied sarcastically. "Too bad they're either dead or on their way to jail."

"There's more to life than work. You've been home for one and a half months and in the hospital for one month. In all that time, you haven't managed to meet someone? A nice doctor maybe?"

"Are you asking me as a professional or as my mother?"

"As a friend."

"No, I haven't met anyone." That wasn't entirely true. There had been a doctor she'd met in the cafeteria while she'd been in physical rehabilitation. And he'd seemed like a great guy until he'd forgotten to remove his wedding ring.

They talked until Allard had to go to his class. "Can't miss my own lecture, right?" Ava thanked him for his time, promising to stop by again and made her way outside.

She'd just stepped out onto the street when she nearly ran into someone. She immediately recognized the dark gray jacket. It was stained and filthy. And going by the smell, it had been a while since either the clothes or the person in them had been washed. Allard had been right about him most likely being homeless. Her gaze was caught by something shiny. He wore a fingerless glove on his left hand, but that didn't hide the metallic sheen of his fingers. A kind of prosthetic.

"Sorry, I…" She started but the words died in her mouth as she looked up into the face of the man. The baseball cap was throwing his features into shadow and the beard was definitely longer, but she recognized the face anyway. She'd seen it. A year ago when she'd been to Washington with her friend Melody. She'd dragged Ava to the Smithsonian Institute to see the newly opened Captain America Exhibit.

It was definitely his face, her memory had never failed her, but… how? How could it be him?

His blue eyes narrowed in suspicion as she kept staring at him in shock. Finally he moved, sidestepped her. "Excuse me."

She stood frozen to the spot, hearing him open the door behind her and disappear in the building.

He sat in the very back of the half-filled lecture hall and tried to concentrate on the words of the doctor, but he had difficulty focusing. He'd read about Dr. Allard in a newspaper he'd fished out of a trash can. The article had praised the man as one of the leading researchers on memory in the country. So he'd made his way from Washington to New York by foot or freight-hopping.

Going to the Smithsonian had helped in so far that he now knew the truth about who he was. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Best friend of Steven Rogers, who was better known as Captain America. The man he'd tried to kill just over a month ago.

But his memories had not come back. Not many anyway. There were fragments. People with faces he couldn't quite see, muffled voices that spoke words he couldn't make out.

He'd hoped that coming here, to New York City, where, according to the information on the plaque in the Smithsonian, he had been born, would somehow trigger something. But whatever he'd hoped for, it didn't come. But then it had apparently been seventy years since the last time he'd been here. He could only imagine how much must have changed over time. And, unfortunately, imagination was all he had at the moment.

Dr. Allard had been his next hope. That maybe there was some sort of secret method to unlocking his lost memories. If there was, the good doctor had yet to mention it in his lectures. He'd considered approaching him directly, but, frankly, he had no idea how to go about it. _Excuse me, but some secret organization wiped my memory seventy years ago, somehow kept me young and used me as their personal attack dog Can you help me?_. At best Dr. Allard would think he was insane, at worst he'd contact the authorities. And he was pretty sure that, despite the recent revelation of their doings and hideouts, not all of HYDRA had been dismantled. He certainly did not want to go back to them. As little as he remembered, it was more than before. Probably more than he'd had in many decades.

But now he felt edgy, like he had to move. He'd been made.

The woman. Her expression had spoken volumes. She'd recognized him. Had they met before? Seeing as she was clearly less than ninety years old, it meant they would have met on one of his HYDRA missions. He couldn't imagine that people generally lived to tell tales of such encounters. So what if she hadn't been a target? Was she an agent for HYDRA? Or had a picture of him leaked onto the internet along with S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA intelligence? He hadn't dared look any of it up online in case they and all the other agencies in the world screened for specific search requests, so he hadn't seen which secrets had been revealed to the world, but the news had called it an exposure of intelligence a thousand times worse than Edward Snowden. Whatever that meant.

Either way, she was a threat to him. If she revealed his location, the authorities would be on him in no time. Undoubtedly, that would eventually lead to him falling into the hands of the remnants of either S.H.I.E.L.D. or HYDRA. And considering that both were now labeled terrorist organizations, he suspected that other government agencies wouldn't exactly express their heartfelt sympathies to him either. He should run. Leave the city. Maybe the country.

Yet, he was still sitting here.

He wasn't sure why, but he felt like this was the place to be if he wished to ever get his memories back. Was that sentimentality? Though he wasn't sure how someone could be sentimental about something he had no memories of. He just couldn't shake the feeling. Was getting all his memories back worth the risk of having the few he'd retrieved taken away again?

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of students getting up and putting their things away. The lecture was over. He got up quickly and was the first out the door.

Walking through the streets, he made a decision. Maybe running away wasn't the answer. Find the woman, find out what she knew. Eliminate the threat. He had no weapons, but he could improvise. Finding one woman in a city of over eight million people, however, may be more of a challenge.

Ava spent most of the remaining afternoon online, doing research. The first thing she'd done was find an image of Sergeant Barnes of the 107th Infantry. It was an old, slightly grainy black and white image of him with the other Howling Commandos.

For the first time in a long time she'd actually doubted her memory, but looking at the photograph there was no doubt in her mind. The man she'd nearly run into today was James Barnes. Which really left her with more questions than answers.

She knew the story of Captain America. How he'd been turned into a super soldier and fought a Nazi science organization known as HYDRA, which had ended with him crash-landing some sort of technologically advanced bomber plane in the ice. Then he'd miraculously survived for sixty-six years in a kind of cryo-sleep to be unfrozen only about two years ago. April 17, 2012. A Thursday. At least that was the day the world had learned that America's greatest symbol of patriotism, courage, and righteousness had not died in World War II as previously believed. The world's first superhero.

She was personally familiar with the Alien Invasion incident in Midtown Manhattan shortly after on May 4, having been one of the many cops responding to the city-wide backup call as well as having dealt with the aftermath.

Of course, Steven Grant Rogers had been in the media again only last month after having dismantled the intelligence agency S.H.I.E.L.D. as well as a newly formed HYDRA that had apparently infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D. and had used it as a cover to set their own plans for world domination into motion.

All this, however, could not explain how she could have run into James Barnes seventy years after his apparent death.

She admitted she wasn't quite as familiar with his story short of what she'd read on the plaque at the Smithsonian, so she had to look him up online. Having been Captain America's best friend ensured that there was a decent amount of information about him.

He'd been born on March 10, 1917 to Winifred and George Barnes, a well-off middle class couple from Brooklyn. He'd been a three-time West Side YMCA Welterweight champion. The plaque at the Smithsonian had praised him as "_an excellent athlete who also excelled in the classroom_" and by all accounts, he'd been something of a heartthrob with the ladies.

He'd met Steve Rogers at the age of seven and they'd been almost inseparable ever since. Or at least they had been until James had enlisted in the Army after the Pearl Harbor attack, while Steve had been rejected. Sent to the Italian front, he'd been captured by HYDRA troops along with most of the 107th and some allied forces. Separated from the others, he'd been tortured and experimented on, though the nature of these experiments was not specified anywhere. Probably unknown. In the end, James Barnes had fallen to his apparent death off a train into an icy ravine.

Icy. HYDRA experiments. Advanced prosthetic.

Ava leaned back on her couch, her laptop balanced on her crossed legs. Rubbing her eyelids. The picture forming in her head wasn't a pretty one. And she hated to think of how he'd gotten from that ravine in 1945 Germany to modern day New York.

Finding the woman turned out to be much less complicated than he'd originally thought. Though his initial clue had come to him by pure luck. The torn cover of an old magazine had caught his eye as he'd walked through a back alley. The woman on the cover had long, soft, black curls, dark olive-skinned features, full lips, and eyes the color of golden honey, accentuated by makeup. She looked back at him with a challenging smile. The woman he'd nearly run into earlier hadn't worn any makeup, there'd been a residual trace of a winter pallor to her complexion, and her curls had been less tamed, but he immediately recognized the unusual color of her eyes.

The magazine itself unfortunately was not there and the article's title had been torn off, but he knew the name of the magazine and that this issue had appeared in October 2012. Finding a digital copy in the computer archives of the University library was easy enough. He figured it was safe to look her up. Certainly HYDRA did not expect him to look up two-year old magazine articles.

_The Finest of New York's Finest_, was the title of the article, complete with the same photo that had been used for the magazine cover. So she was a cop. A homicide detective, as the article revealed. The youngest in the Brooklyn Homicide Division. Aveline Moreau. A rising star in the NYPD with a dazzling rate of case clearance. The article read like a hymn to her and if he had to read between the lines, he'd guess the author, a Colin Grace, had tried very hard to impress her. He made her sound like some tragic heroine, whose mother had been murdered when she'd been sixteen. She even had a superpower. Supposedly, she could remember everything she'd ever seen, heard, smelled, tasted or touched. He doubted that. Though he was certainly not an expert on memory, he couldn't imagine anyone capable of remembering _everything_.

Rolling his eyes he opted to search for Detective Aveline Moreau online. There were a few more articles about her, written somewhat more professionally, mentioning closed cases she'd worked on. A more recent article from February told him of her involvement in a shooting at a restaurant. Apparently she'd been severely injured while protecting a civilian for which she was meant to receive a Medal of Valor in the Medal Day Ceremony in June.

Courageous but reckless. Something nagged at his thoughts about that. Some distant memory that wanted to come through, but somehow couldn't. The harder he tried to concentrate on it, the further away it seemed until the moment had passed, leaving him frustrated and annoyed.

He finished his search by finding the address of the precinct she worked at. The Brooklyn Homicide Division worked out of the 67th precinct located in East Flatbush. He couldn't find a home address, but this would have to do. Surely, she'd live close to work so the area to search was considerably reduced.

It was already fairly late by the time Ava reached the 67th precinct. She wasn't surprised to find her partner still sitting at his desk.

"I hope my absence doesn't force you to actually have to work," she said and Robert Gates looked up, sending her a wide grin, his perfectly white teeth a stark contrast to his dark-skinned features.

"Don't know what you're talking about," he replied, leaning back in his chair. "I'm the one who always does the heavy lifting. You just do your memory magic."

She snorted. "Oh? Which one of us had to tackle down that bear of a man back in December because the other slipped on ice?"

"Don't recall that."

"December 3. Tuesday. If my memory serves me correctly, which, as you know, it always does." She drew a chair up to the side of his desk and sat down. "I ran around with a black and blue shoulder for a week."

He shrugged. "We all have our off days."

Ava chuckled. "It's good to see you."

"It's been a while," Rob replied. "Already know when you're coming back?"

"Doctors haven't cleared me yet. Until they do my hands are tied."

"You are coming back, though."

"Of course. What kind of question is that?"

Rob shrugged. "I don't know. Thought you might have gotten smarter, but I guess you're as obstinate as the rest of us."

"Well, I can't very well leave you all alone out there in the streets. You'll just hurt yourself."

Rob snorted and glanced at the clock. "Well, I'll certainly get hurt if I don't get home soon. I promised Jenny I'd be home for dinner tonight, so how about you tell me why you came in the first place."

"I need you to tell me what you guys have been doing about HYDRA."

He looked at her with both eyebrows raised. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You do know I'm one hell of a poker player right? I don't even need that to read your tells."

Rob sighed. "Concentrate on getting well and keep your nose out of this, okay?"

"So you have been doing something about it."

"Helped the FBI and Homeland Security raid some small hideouts and labs throughout the city. Nothing big. There wasn't much. A few places looked like they were packed up in a hurry so it's safe to say a few of them slipped through the cracks. But it's just a matter of time before they'll be caught."

"What about the Winter Soldier?"

"You've spent too much time on the internet," Rob said with a laugh. "That guy's just a rumor. At best it's a whole bunch of guys using the same code name. No assassin can work like that for more than fifty years. Nothing scary about a guy coming after you with a walker." A fair point and one she would have made herself just this morning. But that was before she'd stumbled upon a very young and alive-looking, ninety-eight year old dead man.

"There were pictures." Old ones, grainy and out of focus. But also plenty of new ones from last month when Captain America had fought a bunch of HYDRA agents near 7th Street in Southwest D.C.

"There are pictures of the Loch Ness Monster and Big Foot, too."

"So there's nothing concrete on him."

"The name pops up every once in a while, but it's probably just some project name. They all got weird names like that."

"What about footage from Captain America fighting HYDRA agents in Washington? Who do you think he fought there?" The footage there had come mostly from cellphone cameras. The images and videos were unsteady and not always clear like they'd been shot while running. Others had been made from a fair amount of distance. Ava would never understand why some people thought it was more important to make pictures than run away.

Captain America had been easy enough to recognize, even without his uniform. His shield was iconic enough on its own and no other man could throw it with so much strength and accuracy. Except maybe his opponent, who'd shown great strength and skill himself, easily keeping up with the super soldier. But his face had been almost completely covered by a mask and no shot of him had been close or steady enough to get a good look at his face anyway. There was, however, something in the footage from last month, as well as those unfocused, old black and white photos, that was discernable; a metal arm with the five-pointed, red communist star on the shoulder.

"Someone very skilled I'm sure," Rob answered with a shrug. "Why are you so hung up on this?"

Ava opened her mouth to tell him her theory, but quickly decided against it. Her theory didn't have holes, it had craters. And Rob was a good detective. He'd find every one of them instantly. "I guess I really did just spend too much time on the internet. Not much to do lately," she finally said, shrugging it off.

"Well, come back quick then, the cases are just piling up."

"I knew you couldn't pull off this job without me."

Fifteen minutes later she was back out on the street, making her way to her car, when she noticed someone standing further down the street. It was still light enough for her to recognize the jacket and baseball cap.

Now she had two choices; get in her car, drive away and hope he wouldn't find her again or stay and see what happens. The first choice would have been the smart option, but alas, when it came to danger she'd never been particularly smart. Plus, she was curious.

"Curiosity killed the cat," she mumbled and changed her direction, moving towards the potential master assassin rather than her safe car. "But satisfaction brought it back."

He remained motionless as she made her way over to him. Disturbingly statue-like. Even the wind seemed to work in his favor. Not even a breeze to ruffle his hair. He wore a perfect poker face, his blue eyes unreadable. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his jacket so she couldn't see his metal hand. He was about six feet tall, or very close to it, towering over her five foot six.

"I'm surprised you found me," Ava said, glad her voice sounded strong and unwavering. As it should, she thought. She'd faced down psychopathic serial killers. Surely, she could deal with this.

"Not as hard as you might think," he replied in a smooth voice, holding up a torn magazine cover in his right hand.

Ava swore. That damn article. It had been meant to be an article on the whole Brooklyn Homicide Division, instead she'd become its main feature. Her colleagues hadn't let her live it down for months. As a matter of fact, Rob had promised that he'd frame the cover and put it on her gravestone some day. There had, of course, been less favorable reactions amongst the other cops as well. As a woman she'd had to work extra hard to be where she was now and still not everyone thought she belonged there. The article hadn't endeared her to those who thought like that and many others who'd felt offended by being excluded in the article. Not to mention the nuisance of having complete strangers come up to her and wanting a photo with her like she was some kind of Hollywood celebrity. Fortunately, people eventually forgot once new magazine issues came out.

"I'll kill Grace the next time I see him," she snarled, snatching the paper out of his hand and balling it up savagely, before tossing it in the nearest bin. He put his hand back in his pocket, but otherwise made no move.

"Are you HYDRA?" She turned to face him again. Her eyebrows pulled up in surprise.

"Should I be?"

He had no interest in games. "Are you or are you not?"

"Not," she replied seriously.

"S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"They wish," she answered. "I'm a cop, not a spy and I prefer it that way."

"Then how did you recognize me earlier?"

"I saw the plaque dedicated to you at that Smithsonian exhibit a year ago. Opening day actually, Fourth of July. The crowds were unbelievable."

"You recognized me from a picture you saw once a year ago?"

"Well," she said, "I looked at it twice, if you must know."

"How is that possible?"

"You read the article." She shrugged and moved around him, heading down the street. She didn't seem afraid of him.

"That you remember everything."

She nodded, glancing over her shoulder. "Are you coming?" He must have looked very surprised because she smiled and added, "Dinner. I'm starving and something tells me you could use something to eat, too."

Ava had two things that she could always trust; her memory and her gut instinct. The latter told her that she was not in immediate danger. He hadn't decided to kill her yet. She could still make something out of this situation.

She kept walking towards the small diner around the corner. It was a watering hole for cops. With the shifts changing there'd be quite a few cops there now. In case he did decide to kill her, there'd be plenty of armed backup there.

It took a while before he followed her. He didn't seem quite certain how to handle this situation. Good. He'd have to play on her turf, giving her the home-field advantage. It may not be much when faced with a professional assassin, but she'd take what she could.

They were both silent on their way to the diner and once there, Ava made her way to a booth in the far corner. A more central location would have been better, but she didn't want anyone overhearing whatever they might say. She nodded to a few of her fellow colleagues, who eyed her companion warily. If there was one thing she could count on it was that cops always had each other's backs.

She sat down with her back to the wall, forcing him to sit down opposite her with his back to the open room. He didn't like it. "Better if no one else recognizes you." She held out the menu to him and he just looked at it with a frown. "Aren't you hungry?"

His stomach answered before he could open his mouth. Instead he took the menu from her. "What about you?"

"I already know everything they serve here."

"Your perfect memory?" He sounded skeptical.

"HSAM," she said with a nod. "Highly superior autobiographical memory. Yes, I can remember everything in perfect detail. Though in this case it's more of a repeat-offender-thing."

The waitress, Kristen, came over to take their order. Ava kept herself from rolling her eyes. She usually made a point of avoiding the diner when Kristen had her shifts. The waitress was, to put it nicely, a snob. "I'll take the exotic salad and water," Ava said. Her regular workout sessions had taken a big hit after she'd been shot, so until she could do her morning jogs and take her combat lessons again, she'd have to be a bit careful with her diet.

"And… you?" Kristen asked, turning towards Ava's guest. The crinkle of her nose told Ava she'd only just noticed the state of him. Admittedly, he did look like a homeless person, which, she supposed, he was at the moment.

Fortunately he was too focused on his menu to notice Kirsten's reaction to him. When he remained silent for another few minutes and Kirsten was getting impatient, Ava said, "Just get him the house special and some water."

"Fine," Kirsten sighed and left the two of them alone again.

"Is it something you're born with?" he suddenly asked, putting the menu down on the table.

"What is?"

"Your superior memory thing."

Ava nodded. "It's something I was born with, yes. It's very rare. Only about twenty people in the country are confirmed to have it. But it doesn't start until a bit later. For me it started when I was seven. January 3, 1992. My parents had decided to finally put down the Christmas tree, which I didn't want them to. They went ahead anyway, so I sat on the couch and I just pictured it still standing there with the blue and silver baubles. My parents always had a different sort of coloring theme for each year. There was one red one that I'd insisted on hanging on the tree anyway. I remembered the stacks of Christmas presents, wrapped in that God-awful paper with the multi-colored reindeer that I loved as a kid. I never wanted to forget that and I didn't. I never forgot anything ever again."

"How does it work?"

Everyone asked her that. "It's like I'm there. I just see it." He looked like he understood her about as much as everyone else did, too. Not at all. Admittedly, it was a frustrating answer. Allard kept trying to make her explain it more. But she didn't know how. It was like she said it was. "It's… like a time machine in my head. I can go back to any moment within the last twenty-two years of my life and recall it like it only just happened – what I saw or heard or felt in that moment. Like no time has passed at all."

"And you remembered my picture."

"Yes," she replied honestly. "I was surprised to say the least. I even looked you up online just to be sure, because I just couldn't believe it at first."

"Now you do?"

"Hard not to, sitting across from you."

"Aren't you wondering how I got here?"

"I have a theory," she said. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to elaborate. She was about to when Kristen came back with their waters. She took a long drink and waited until they were alone again, before she dived in.

"I know you were captured and experimented on by HYDRA. That much I could find on the internet. I know you fell to what everyone believed was your death into a frozen ravine. Stop me at any point when I stop making sense." He remained quiet, his right hand tracing patterns into the condensation on his water glass. "Obviously you somehow survived that fall. I think HYDRA gave you something that helped you survive while they held you prisoner."

She gulped, knowing she was coming up on the tricky part. "Everyone thinks the Winter Soldier is a legend, but he's not, is he? You're him." He gave no sign of denial or confirmation, just kept his blue eyes fixed on her, his poker face back in place. "The few pictures there are and the footage from Washington don't show a lot, but they show your metal arm. I saw your hand earlier today." He took a deep breath and lifted his left hand onto the table, curling the metal fingers, then spreading them again, looking at them as if he'd never seen them before. "The star on your shoulder is a symbol that the Soviet Union used. I think they found you at some point after you fell. After that… HYDRA infiltrated a US agency, I'm sure infiltrating the Soviet Union wasn't much harder. So they got their hands on you, gave you that arm, made you kill people for them over the last fifty years. The Soviet Union fell so they moved you here to the American part of HYDRA." She fell quiet. Her theory still had holes that maybe he could fill. "How are you still so young though?"

He looked away, his eyes lingering on a spot on the wall behind her, but his gaze was far off. "Cold," he muttered almost too quietly for her to hear him. "I remember waking up and being very cold." His eyes shifted to his water glass. It was filled with crushed ice.

"Ice. They kept you on ice. A kind of cryostasis." She was thinking aloud more than anything. But it fit. It explained the lack of aging. Not unlike what had happened to Captain America, too. "They'd be able to thaw you whenever they'd need you and then put you under again." A shiver ran down her back as she suddenly felt cold herself. They'd treated him like some object, some tool they could just take out whenever needed and then store him in a corner again. She'd seen some of the awful things humans could do to each other, but this was something different. "It's seriously advanced technology, but so, I think, is that arm."

"As good a theory as any," he said.

"What does that mean? Don't you know what happened to you?" He finally looked at her again. There was something pained in his eyes now. "You don't, do you?" she realized.

"You know as much as I do. I have no memories older than a month. Nothing but what I read in that exhibit," he admitted. "I know my name, James Barnes. But I don't know who that is." He gave her a bitter smile.

"Did HYDRA take your memories?"

"Probably, but as I said, I remember nothing passed waking up a month ago."

"That's why you were in Dr. Allard's lectures? You thought he could help you get your memories back?"

"You know him?"

"He's a friend. We met when he studied people like me. I was a subject in his studies."

Their food came. Ava silently poked at her salad, suddenly not so hungry anymore. Her companion hesitated for a moment, but finally his hunger got the better of him and he wolfed down his burger and the French fries.

"What have you been eating all this time?" she wondered out loud.

"Whatever I could find. Nothing this good." He glanced at her half-eaten salad. She slid it over to him and he finished that off, too.

She took another drink from her water, watching him eat. Logic told her not to trust him. Whoever he had been once, he'd also been the Winter Soldier. Under whatever circumstances he may have become him, however unwilling, she did not know how much of the Soldier was left in him now. They could erase his memories and brainwash him, but not even that could have enabled him to kill on command if he wasn't already capable of doing just that. He'd been a soldier before that, too, after all. A Howling Commando. They certainly hadn't defeated HYDRA in the war by means of peaceful protests. He'd killed for a cause before. A noble cause, admittedly.

_And that's just it, isn't it?_ she thought. He killed for a cause. Who knew what HYDRA had made him believe he was doing? Save the world from itself. Wasn't that what they thought they were doing? By enslaving humanity. But they wouldn't have had to tell him that part. _Save the world_ would have been enough in his vulnerable state without memories to let him know better.

It wasn't like she'd never taken a life.

The image of the restaurant came back to her. She remembered pulling out her gun, raising it and hitting one of the two masked assailants in the shoulder, nicking an artery as she found out later. She heard a scream beside her and turned to face the second shooter…

"Aveline?" Her companion's voice pulled her out of her thoughts. By the sound of it, he'd tried to get her attention a few times. Her hand automatically flew up to her chest and she only just managed to divert it to go to her glass instead.

"Sorry, sometimes the memories pull me in," she explained, taking a sip. "And please don't call me that. My father is the only person who calls me Aveline and only because I can't make him stop. I prefer Ava."

"Not a good memory, I take it," he noted, looking at her slightly shaking hand.

"No, it certainly isn't." She expected him to ask, but he didn't, which she was grateful for.

Kristen came back to ask if they wanted anything else and on impulse Ava ordered a plate of apple pie for him, which came a few minutes later.

She stared out of the window while he ate, thinking things through. "Do you remember what they told you? HYDRA I mean. What you were fighting for?"

"That by doing so, I could help shape the future. A better future for mankind. I'm not sure I always believed it, even before I found out who I used to be, but at the time it was all I had to go on. There was nothing else." And whenever there was something coming back to him, HYDRA could just '_reset_' him. Wipe his mind and start anew. They'd taken away his humanity, turned him into little more than a robotic weapon with an almost artificial intelligence.

They'd turned him into their perfect soldier and then they'd given him a cause, which, had probably sounded right when they'd explained it to him. The same way all soldiers were made to fight. Every war came with its own form of propaganda to make people rise up and fight for one cause or another.

"I know it probably means nothing to you, but I'm sorry. For what happened to you."

He gave a small shrug. "I remember none of it. Aside from the incident at the Potomac River."

"Absolutely nothing?"

He paused with the fork in the air. "I remember him. Capt–Steve. Just a few images. Fragments of moments we've spent together in the past, before the war."

"At least that means the memories are still there." She'd worked with Allard on his studies, learned a few things about memory herself, but she'd never heard of a technique that could take someone's memories away like that. But HYDRA seemed to have experimented with a lot of things far beyond the boundaries of modern science. Cryopreservation was, of course, something science was working on, but so far Captain America had been the only known person to have been brought back successfully. Him, and apparently his best friend.

She wanted to ask why he wasn't with Steve Rogers. Surely, the Captain would be the first person to help his old friend. But she had a feeling she already understood why.

"Have you decided yet?" she asked instead.

"On what?"

"Whether or not you're going to kill me."

The bluntness took him by surprise, but then the first small, genuine smile broke out on his face. "Are you always like this? So direct?"

"I try."

"For the time being, I decided to let you live."

"Well that's good. I like my life."

She waved Kristen over and paid for their food. She knew what they'd had and what it cost so she needed no bill.

"Do you have some place to go?"

"What?"

"A place to sleep? Clean up? Eat warm meals? Stay dry?" She already knew the answer, but she wanted to know if he had some sort of a plan.

"No."

"Then I guess you're coming with me." He looked at her like she'd just grown a second head. "Look, I've got a spare bedroom and you've got nowhere else to go."

"Do you often invite men you've only just met to your home?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. He probably hadn't meant it to sound the way it had though, so she let it go. "Nope, but usually I don't meet master assassins."

"Seems more like a reason to keep me out, not let me in."

"Is a door lock going to stop you if you decide to kill me after all?"

"No."

"There you have it." She got up and walked to the door. There was no hesitation when he followed her this time. The evening was certainly not turning out the way she'd thought it would. He was easier to deal with than she'd expected. She wouldn't go so far as to assume he trusted her, but he seemed to understand that he had nowhere else to turn to.

She led him to her car. A champagne-gold Crown Vic. Though an unmarked, it may as well have had _Police_ written all over it in Day-Glo lettering for all the subtlety it possessed.

Inside the enclosed space of the car, she was uncomfortably reminded that her new roommate probably hadn't washed in anything other than rainwater in quite a while. Fortunately it was only a twenty-minute drive to Fort Greene. "When we get to my place, you can take a shower and I'll throw out those clothes. Maybe burn them."

"I have nothing else."

"I'll take care of that."

He was a bit surprised when Ava pulled up outside of a three-floor brownstone on a street just off DeKalb, around the corner from Fort Greene Park. She led him up the stairs to the front door and opened it for him, revealing a long, white hallway with a walk-in-closet for coats and shoes and a staircase at the end that led up to the next floor and down to a basement. He took a look at the pictures hanging on the wall while she put her jacket away. There was one of a younger Ava, maybe fifteen or sixteen, together with a woman. There was a startling resemblance between the two women and he had no doubt that it was an image of her and her mother. The one the article had said she'd lost. The same woman featured in another old photograph together with a tall, dark-haired man in police uniform, his arm around her shoulders, both smiling happily. "Your father is a cop, too."

"Was," she replied. "He's retired. Lives in Florida now. He was with the 60th precinct."

"Brighton Beach."

"Yeah," she said, looking at him curiously. "You remember something?"

He shook his head. "I know where it is, I just don't know how I know. I didn't even know I knew." He tried to remember where the information had come from, but there was nothing.

"Don't push it," Ava said. "Let it come on its own."

"What if it won't?"

"It will," she said with conviction. "I'm sure it's all still there. You just need to give it some time."

He turned back to the photos to hide the frustration in his face. "Who's this?" he asked, pointing to the picture of a laughing, dark-skinned man in his mid-thirties.

"My partner, Robert Gates. And this," she pointed to the photo of an older, gray-haired man. "That's Sergeant Sean Parsons, he's my squad's supervisor. And my former training officer."

There was also a picture of her together with Dr. Allard and a handful of other people. He especially noticed a red-haired woman, who had her arms wrapped around Ava almost possessively in the photo. "Are they like you?"

"Yeah, they're a few of the people that participated in Allard's study. None of them live in New York though, so it's been a while since I've seen them." She turned away and went into what he assumed was the living room. He followed.

It wasn't like anything he'd expected. The large room had crème-colored walls, divided into a living room area and a dining room at the far end, a counter separating it from the adjoining, open kitchen. A closed door beside the kitchen most likely led to a small bath. Beyond the dining room was a pair of French doors leading to a patio and a small yard. The colonial-style furniture in the room was made from mid-brown, solid wood. The living/dining room had a theme that matched the furniture. Everything was a warm blend of browns, reds, oranges, and yellows. Persian paintings and lamps hung on the wall spaces not occupied by bookshelves. Large, leafy, palm-like plants filled the corners of the rooms and Isfahan rugs covered most of the hardwood flooring. Sheer white curtains let the light through the windows facing the street without inviting curious looks, lined by heavier, dark red drapes.

"I didn't know Detectives earned enough to afford the rent for a place like this."

"They usually don't," Ava replied, moving out of the living room and into the corridor, heading up the stairs. "One of the few perks of the job; you know when a great apartment is about to come on the market for a greatly reduced price. The previous tenant was murdered. Found in the living room. The owner is a nice older lady from Tribeca. Owns a whole bunch of properties around New York, including several in this neighborhood. She was so glad about having a cop moving here she all but gave me the place for free."

There was another closet in the second floor corridor as well as a niche for a washer and dryer. Two doors to his left led to bedrooms, the master bedroom and the guest bedroom Ava had told him he could have. She led him to it.

The furniture in the guest bedroom, a king-sized bed, more bookshelves, a chair by the window and a wardrobe, were made in the same colonial style as the living room furniture. Here Ava had opted instead for an Indian theme. The colors from downstairs repeated themselves here, but a few bolder colors jumped at him from Indian paintings and mandalas. It was surprisingly nice. Warm and welcoming.

"I hope it's okay," Ava said, standing by another door beside the wardrobe. "This goes to the bathroom. We share it, so it might not hurt to knock before you come in."

He nodded and followed her inside. The bathroom was mostly decorated in white and beige mosaic-ceramics and brown Greek meander borders along the ceiling and floor.

He couldn't help himself so he asked, "What's the theme in your room?"

She just smiled at him. "You can take a shower or a bath, whichever you prefer. Towels are in here," she indicated a cabinet behind the door. "I'll see what I can do about some new clothes."

"Sure you can't just wash these?" He motioned at what he was wearing.

Her nose crinkled. "I guess a three-thousand degree jet fuel bath will get the smell right out."

"Jet fuel burns at only eight- to fifteen-hundred degrees," he replied almost automatically. Again he found the knowledge ready in his head, but no memory of where it had come from.

She smiled again. "I'll keep that in mind." With that she left him alone, closing the bedroom door behind herself. He listened to her going down the stairs before he began to undress.

Ava left the house again and walked over to her neighbor's house, ringing the doorbell. Barking was the immediate reply on the other side of the door.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," said a female voice on the other side. Finally, Melody Dormer opened the door and the source of the barking planted its paws on Ava's thighs, whining in excitement.

"Hey sweetie," Ava said cheerfully, leaning down and rubbing the six-year old Belgian Malinois's head with both hands. "Have you been a good girl?" Ava had adopted Lily, a retired service dog, two years ago.

"The best, as always," Melody answered, throwing her long, blond hair over one shoulder and leaning against the door frame.

"Thanks for looking after her again, I've had a really… strange evening."

"No problem. You know Charlie loves having her around," Melody replied, referring to her fourteen-year old daughter. Charlotte often took care of Lily whenever Ava had a busy day.

"Hey Mel, might I ask another favor of you?"

"You can certainly ask."

"Do you still have all of Louis' old clothes? The ones you wanted to give away?" Melody's husband was approximately the same height as her new roommate. Perhaps a bit wider, especially now that he'd gained a good bit of weight after he'd ruptured a disc and had to seriously reduce any sports. But his old clothes, the ones that didn't fit him anymore, should work. It wouldn't exactly be the height of fashion, but it would do. At least for a while.

"Yeah, I was going to bring them away next week, why?"

"Any chance I could have them?"

"Why?" Melody asked suspiciously.

"I may have someone staying over who needs some."

"Again, why?"

"He has none of his own. Well, except what he's wearing."

"What? Like a fire-thing?"

"More like a living-on-the-street-thing."

Melody let out a laugh. "Oh, it was only a matter of time before you'd turn your house into a homeless shelter. Sometimes I think you're asking for trouble."

"He's not dangerous, I promise," Ava assured. _Not at the moment anyway_, she added in her head. "I could also do with a spare razor, if you've got one. My dad left his shaving cream, but I need a razor."

Melody sighed. "Yeah, Louis switched to electric, but he never throws things out so his old one will probably still be in the bathroom. Come on in."

Ava maneuvered her way around Lily and into the house, waiting in the living room with the dog at her feet for Melody to grab everything Ava had asked for upstairs.

Melody came back with a huge sack of clothing for just about every season, a razor and even a brand new toothbrush. "I bought a new one for Charlie and there were two in the package," she explained.

"You are the best, Mel."

"I know, I know," she said, waving it off. "Just try not to get stabbed in your sleep, okay?"

"I'll try." Ava went back to her house, dog at her heels, clothing sack in hand. In the living room, Ava told the dog to stay, pointing to her dog basket. Lily jumped into it and curled up, watching her owner as she left the room again and made her way upstairs.

She could hear the shower running, so she decided to put the clothes, the razor and the toothbrush on the bed. She grabbed the pile of filthy clothes he'd left on the floor of the bedroom and quickly dumped them outside in the trash can. After that she went into the living room and flipped the television on. She didn't really care what was on, she just liked the background noise while she read her book. Lily joined her on the couch. Every once in a while the dog would raise her head at the ceiling, whining. Ava assumed she could hear the stranger moving around in the guestroom.

"Now you behave," Ava ordered when she heard the bedroom door open and her guest coming down the stairs. She switched off the TV and made Lily go back into her basket and stay there before getting up to greet him by the doorway. Lily liked meeting new people, but not everyone understood her enthusiasm.

He looked much better now that he was clean and in some fresh clothes. He'd picked a pair of black sweat pants and a light gray t-shirt that revealed most of his metal arm, but still covered the red star that should be on his shoulder. He'd already made use of the razor she'd gotten from Melody and his wet hair was pulled back into a ponytail, except for a few shorter strands falling into his face. He actually looked very attractive now that he looked like a human being again instead of a walking dumpster. The clothes hung a bit loose on him, but it wasn't as bad as she'd feared. What Louis had around the middle, her guest had in the width of his shoulders.

"I wondered about the dog hair on the carpet," he noted as his gaze landed on Lily, who was already shaking with excitement, yowling to be allowed to meet her new friend.

"Sorry, Lily isn't usually allowed in the guest bedroom, but my dad let her in when he was staying with me. I cleaned the room but her fur is hard to get out of that carpet," she explained a bit sheepishly. "I hope you don't mind a dog around. If you do, I'm sure the neighbors won't mind taking her in for a while."

Instead of answering, he crouched down to the floor. That was too much for Lily. Disregarding her owner's commands, she jumped up and barreled across the room, nearly knocking him over as she practically jumped on top of him to get to his face. He scratched her neck with his right hand, steading himself against the wall with his metal one. "I had a dog as a kid," he suddenly said, looking surprised at the memory. "Hunter. But he was a Foxhound."

"See? Your memories are coming back. You just need to give it some time." She moved over to the armchair and pulled her legs up underneath her. He moved over to the couch, settling on the end furthest from the windows. Or furthest away from her. Maybe both. Lily unabashedly stretched out on the rest of the couch.

"This is probably something I should have cleared up sooner," she said, "but how am I supposed to call you?"

He hadn't actually thought about it. He hadn't talked to anyone in a month. Prior to that he'd had no name. His name was James and it would make sense for her to call him that, but the name seemed foreign to him. Not like it belonged to him. There was only one name that felt right to him, had some kind of meaning.

"Bucky."


	2. Saturday, May 10, 2014

**I'll be in the hospital for a while so I figured I'd upload another chapter before I won't have any internet for a while. I hope you like it. **

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><p><strong>Chapter 02: Saturday, May 10, 2014<strong>

It had taken Bucky a long time to fall asleep. It took him forever to unwind enough and the constant street noise had not been helpful. Still he'd tried.

"If you want your memories back, what you need is rest and a good night's sleep. Wounds heal with time, but the mind can only heal with sleep," Ava had told him before leaving the house to walk Lily. She'd come back about an hour later, he'd heard her move around downstairs for a while until she'd retired to her own room.

He hadn't realized before how tense he'd been until the hot shower. He'd been on the move since he'd regained enough of his memory to break free of HYDRA's brainwashing. He'd barely slept along the way, always vigilant, always looking over his shoulder. Ava had promised him a safe place to stay, but he still couldn't be sure of her intentions. In his admittedly limited experience, people didn't help unless they thought they could gain something from it. He just didn't know her motive yet. But for now, he couldn't deny that this was more comfortable than living on the street. He could stay here, use the time to recuperate, get his bearings and figure out his next move. He knew what he wanted to do, but it was risky to say the least. One wrong move and he'd lose what little he'd recovered.

Eventually the fatigue had won out and he'd drifted off. When he woke up the next morning he felt better, if not necessarily refreshed. He'd had troubling dreams that had kept him tossing and turning, but as he tried to remember them the memories faded away.

With a sigh he got up. The clock on the wall told him it was just before nine o'clock. He'd been out longer than he'd thought. He put on some fresh clothes, jeans he had to keep up with a belt and a long-sleeved, dark green shirt. Once dressed and washed up he made his way downstairs, the smell of breakfast greeting him. The second thing he was greeted by was the dog, Lily, at the foot of the stairs, looking up at him with her tail wagging. It reminded him of his old dog. He'd done the same.

Bucky had to smile at the thought. It wasn't much, but it was a clear memory. Something from his past life. A step in the right direction.

He scratched her head as he passed her, going through the living room to reach the dining area. Ava was sitting on a stool by the counter instead of the table. There was a plate of scrambled eggs in front of her and she had a fork in her hand, but her gaze was unfocused and far away, her eyes slightly widened, her breathing uneven. He'd seen that look before, just the other night in the restaurant when she'd been stuck in a memory. A bad memory.

She wore a black tank top today, the cleavage a little lower than yesterday and he could see the tip of a red line disappearing between her breasts. A scar. A not very old one. Maybe a month or two old.

He raised his hand and brushed her shoulder with his fingertips, strangely aware that this was the first time he'd touched another human being since he'd fought Steve in Washington. She startled at the touch, her eyes focusing on him.

"Morning," she said as if nothing had happened. Whatever she'd been thinking of, she didn't want to talk about it. "I wasn't sure what you like for breakfast. I've made some scrambled eggs and bacon, but I've also got cereal or fresh bread if you prefer that."

"Eggs and bacon sound good."

She got up and fixed him a plate. Bucky didn't know what to make of her. She seemed trustworthy, she was nice to him, she'd even made him breakfast. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. If it did, he'd be gone. Depending on the shoe, he'd kill her.

He took a seat at the counter opposite her spot, his eyes falling on a notepad lying beside her half-finished plate. He read it upside down; '_End of WWII_', '_Hitler suicide_', '_Hiroshima/Nagasaki_', '_NATO_', '_Cold War_', '_Korean War_', '_Vietnam War_', '_Space Race_', '_Berlin Wall_', '_Cuban Missile Crisis_', '_Civil Rights Act 1964/Voting Rights Act 1965_', '_Immigration Act 1965_', '_National Organization of Women_', '_Martin Luther King_', '_Moon landing 1969_', '_Stonewall Rebellion/ Gay Rights_', '_Fall of Soviet Union_', '_Gulf War_', '_NAFTA_', '_September 11/War on Terror_', '_Global recession 07-10_', '_Tony Stark/Iron Man_', '_Bruce Banner_', '_War Machine/Ten Rings_', '_President Ellis_', '_Asgard/Thor Mexico/London_', '_Avengers_', '_Alien Attack 2012_'.

"It's a list of some important events in history since… since you haven't been around regularly anymore," Ava explained, setting his plate down in front of him. "I don't know how long you want to stay, but I figured you might be able to use the time to catch up. You can use my laptop. This list barely scratches the surface, there's lots more obviously, but I figured this should give you an idea of the world today. I can make you a list of cultural things, too, if you want."

Frankly, he was speechless. He took the notepad and went over the list again. "You didn't put _him_ on it."

"I don't think you need my list to tell you to look him up. Same with S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA."

"Thank you."

"This is for you, too," she said, dropping a key in front of him. "Spare house key. Don't lose it. Changing locks is not cheap."

"You're giving me a key?"

"I might not always be around to open the door for you when you're out."

"When I'm out?"

"Yeah, you know, explore the neighborhood, see Brooklyn. Maybe something will trigger a memory."

Ava looked up when she didn't get a response. She found him staring at the key with a frown and it suddenly occurred to her that he had not expected to be let outside. For one, he still didn't really trust her. And he hadn't been let loose to do as he pleased for seventy years. She supposed that kind of freedom took some getting used to after all this time. "Look, I'm not your personal prison guard. I won't tell you to stay or where you can go. You're smart and trained enough to know how to stay safe and not draw attention to yourself. You've managed for a month just fine on your own."

Bucky nodded and pocketed the key, turning his attention to his breakfast and they ate in silence. Lily was sitting by her feet, looking very expectant and licking her snout. Eventually Ava relented and threw her some of her egg, which Lily snapped up in mid-air.

"I'd like to meet Dr. Allard," Bucky suddenly said when Ava had finished eating and put her plate in the dishwasher.

"I figured," she replied. "I guess we can go to him, ask him for help. I can call him and set something up. But I'm sure he'll be willing to talk to you as soon as possible. Actually, he'll probably love it. Whole new line of research and all. Just… don't get your hopes up too much, okay?"

"You don't think he can help?"

"I don't know," she said honestly. "The thing is, scientists can tell you that short-term memory relies on the parietal lobe and the frontal lobe, especially the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex. They can tell you that long-term memories are stored on a wide neural net that's spread throughout the brain. That the hippocampus plays an important role for the consolidation of information from short- and long-term memory, though it doesn't store information itself. That autobiographical memory is distributed on a neural net in the frontal, temporal and occipital lobes; abstract and conceptual knowledge in the frontal and anterior temporal networks, possibly bilaterally, sensory and perceptual details of specific events in the posterior temporal and occipital networks, predominantly in the right cortex. Allard will be able to tell you that, in people like me, people with HSAM, parts of the brain are larger than in other people, specifically the temporal lobe, which is believed to have to do with storing memory, and the caudate nucleus, which scientists think is involved in what they call _habit-_ or _skill-learning_. Also obsessive-compulsive disorder, so if I ever get a bit weird about things being out of place, I apologize in advance.

"Anyway, psychologists will tell you that autobiographical memory is divided in semantic memory, which stores language and general knowledge and facts about the world, and episodic memory, a storage for personal experiences and specific objects, people and events that you've experienced. But that's all just theory. No one truly knows how memory works, how it is stored and recalled.

"Allard's studies with HSAM are very new. He hopes that studying people with instant access to virtually every day of their lives could recast science's understanding of how human memory works and what is possible. Whether it's possible that everyone has these memories tucked away in their brains, but just can't retrieve them. That understanding what's going on in my head, might one day help with Alzheimer's and other memory disorders. Allard thinks the potential of this is enormous, but inquiry has only just begun.

"What HYDRA did to you… by all accounts of modern medicine, should be impossible. Whatever their own experiments about the subject have revealed to them, they certainly haven't bothered sharing it with the rest of the world. They didn't just wipe your memory, they wiped it systematically."

"What do you mean?"

"They managed to wipe _only_ your episodic memory. Your semantic memory and everything else is intact. It's how you could know that jet fuel burns at eight- to fifteen hundred degrees."

"Without knowing where that memory comes from," he added.

"You probably can't access such knowledge until an external situation triggers it, because usually semantic and episodic memory are supposed to be linked. It makes sense, I guess. If they'd wipe your semantic memory, too, they'd have to retrain you every time they'd need you for a mission. I doubt you would have been worth that effort to them. Not when they apparently had plenty of perfectly willing recruits who would have jumped at the chance to take your place."

"So does that make it harder or easier to get my wiped memories back?"

"Hard to tell," Ava replied. "Like I said, as far as mainstream science is concerned, what they did shouldn't be possible. That makes your case a bit… unique." She took his empty plate and put it beside hers in the dishwasher before turning to him again. "I don't think '_wiped_' is the right word though. They didn't actually wipe your memory. Otherwise you wouldn't have remembered Steve Rogers, your name, or the fact you used to have a dog as a kid. The brain doesn't lose memories, only the ability to recall them, so it's more like… like they've impeded the recall function. Like they caused a kind of specialized retrograde amnesia. Without harming your semantic or procedural memory, allowing you to not only retain old factual knowledge and skills, but to also accumulate new ones over the decades. Which really just makes it all that much stranger."

"Procedural memory?"

"It's for the performance of certain types of actions. Those that can be automatically utilized, like tying your shoes, driving a car or flying a plane. At first you have to think about what you're doing, but if you repeat an activity often enough, it becomes a procedural memory and you can access it without conscious effort. That allows you to focus most of your attention to more important things, like other traffic participants. It also encompasses such things as classic conditioning, habituation and sensitization."

"How did you meet Dr. Allard anyway? Did he approach you?"

"No, I approached him. Almost nine years ago. Much like you actually," Ava explained. "I… I had lost someone I'd cared for a lot and… I was a wreck. I mean, every… bad thing that had ever happened to me… every mistake I'd ever made was running in my head on a loop. Like a swarm of bees. I needed help and I didn't know where else to turn. I was studying pre-law at NYU and heard about Allard. So I went to him and he helped me. He wanted me to join his study and I did. He asked me all these questions like '_What did you have for breakfast five years, two months, and a week ago on Friday?_'."

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. The math wasn't hard. Nine years ago she would have been about twenty. The article had said her mother had died when Ava had been sixteen. Who else had she lost?

Bucky had the feeling that she didn't want to talk about it, so instead he asked, "What is the answer?"

This time when Ava smiled at him, it was genuine. "Blueberry pancakes."

"You can make blueberry pancakes and all I get are scrambled eggs?" Bucky joked. He didn't know why, only that he liked seeing her smile more than seeing her sad. It made her amber eyes shine like gold.

She laughed at that. "If I had known when you'd get up I could have made pancakes. They're no good warmed-up."

He felt himself smiling back. The motion felt foreign on his face. He supposed he hadn't had much to smile about in a while. "Why are you helping me? What do you get out of it?"

"Hm." She sat down in front of him again, looking at the French doors that led to the small yard. She was contemplating about her answer and he realized that she hadn't actually thought about it. "Because it felt like the right thing to do, I suppose."

"The right thing to do?" he repeated, disbelievingly. "Out of all the homeless people in New York, you pick me to take home. Why? Why not someone else?"

"Because I understand what it's like to be at the mercy of your own memory. We might be two ends of a scale, but at the end of the day, the underlying problem isn't so different."

"That problem being?"

"We're so caught up with our pasts that sometimes it's hard to see the future. And it'll only get harder the more memories you get back. You've gone through some awful things, Bucky, and once all that comes crashing down on you… well, it won't be easy to deal with. I don't know if I can help you with that, but I can try. If you want me to."

"I don't know if you're actually that altruistic or just plain crazy."

"You and my neighbor, Melody, have that in common, but I'll let you in on a little secret," she said, getting up, giving him a secretive wink. "Those things aren't always mutually exclusive. Now come on."

"To where?"

"Out," she called on her way to the hallway. "See the world. Or Brooklyn at least." It was another gray day out and it had rained heavily that morning and threatened to rain again, but for the time being, Ava felt the weather would hold.

For the next few hours, Bucky was dragged through all of Fort Greene and most of Downtown Brooklyn. Every once in a while she would pull him into a store and make him try on a few clothes. "It wouldn't hurt to have something that actually fits you," was what she'd said, but he was getting the feeling that she just liked bossing him around. She did actually end up buying him a few of the things she'd made him put on. Mainly pants that actually fit him, a black denim jacket, and a pair of brown leather gloves which she handed him. "I don't really care, but if it bothers you when people look, you can put these on." So far he'd kept his left hand shoved in his pocket so no one could see his metal hand, now he quickly pulled on the left glove, the other he put in his pocket. It was a warm day and it probably looked ridiculous enough to wear one glove but maybe people would think it was to cover an injury or something.

They returned to her home in the afternoon, because Lily needed her walk. Otherwise, Bucky feared he'd have gotten a personalized tour of Brooklyn Heights, too. Whatever training he'd gotten as the Winter Soldier, it did not cover this.

"Are you joining us or do you need a break?" Ava asked from the living room door, Lily already leashed. Bucky wasn't sure if he liked the slightly mocking tone of her voice. At his expense anyway.

He followed her out of the house and down the street to Fort Greene Park. At this time of day she couldn't let Lily off the leash. She didn't make her heel, but the leash had to hang loose. "I don't appreciate my shoulder being dislocated. Again," Ava said. "Squirrel," she added as an explanation when he'd looked at her quizzically. "My fault really. I didn't pay attention. She's easy to call off if I notice it soon enough."

"She's well trained."

"Should be. She's a former SAR dog. Search and Rescue."

"Isn't she too young for a service dog to be retired already?"

"She has a bit of a heart condition. Easy enough to manage with medication, but it excluded her from further service."

"Let me guess," Bucky said, crouching down. Lily immediately jumped at the invitation and cuddled up to him, trying to lick his face. "Your heart's too big."

"Astoundingly accurate," Ava said with a laugh. She was glad to see that he seemed at least capable to trust her dog. He was still on the fence about Ava herself, she knew that. That was alright though. She hadn't expected him to just trust her right away. Considering all he'd gone through, he would need some time. Hell, she needed time. She'd always had a good sense about people and the feeling she got from Bucky was that, even without his memories, he was a good man at heart, not the ruthless killer HYDRA had turned him into. If anything, he was another of HYDRA's victims. But he had been the Winter Soldier at one point and it was hard to tell how much of him was left. She didn't know if there might not be certain situations, certain triggers, that would bring the Soldier back.

They took a walk around the Prison Ship Martyr's Monument. It had been built as a memorial to the over eleven-thousand American prisoners that had died in captivity aboard British prison ships during the American Revolutionary War. The remains of a few of those prisoners were interred in a crypt beneath its base.

"I actually remember coming here," Bucky said, looking up at the monument. "It was built only a few years before I was born. Steve and I used to come here sometimes."

"It must be strange being stuck in another time. For both of you."

"Probably more for him than me. I currently know more about living in this day and age than what it was like living here in the forties."

"You've already recovered a few memories since we've met and it hasn't even been twenty-four hours."

"I guess I don't understand why now. Why not in the month I've been on the move?"

"Maybe _because_ you were on the move. Maybe you needed to settle to give your mind the chance to rest and catch up with the rest of you. Besides, a healthy mind needs a healthy body and going by the state you were in when we met I'd say you didn't exactly have the healthiest lifestyle for the past couple of weeks."

"The sleep thing?"

"That and something proper to eat. Speaking of which, I wouldn't mind some lunch right about now. There's a nice Italian nearby that doesn't mind dogs as long as they stay under the table." Bucky nodded in agreement.

The restaurant was small and packed with families, but they found a small table for two by the window. An elderly waitress made her way over with a bright grin on her face, hugging Ava from behind. "Ciao dolcezza! Come estai!"

"Bene, grazie, Felìcita," Ava replied. "E tu?"

"Fine, fine," the woman, Felìcita, said in heavily accented English. "You feel better?"

"Much, thank you."

Felìcita's gaze landed on Bucky and her grin grew even wider, giving Ava a conspiratorial wink, saying in Italian, "He's very handsome. How long have you been dating?"

In Italian Ava answered, "We're not dating. He's just a friend."

"Mm-hm." Felìcita did not look like she believed her. Still in Italian she said, "Attractive man like him, he'll be snapped up in no time. Ask him out before he finds someone else. You're not getting younger, Ava."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Bucky managed to keep a straight face until Felìcita left them alone to look through their menus. "Che cosa mi consiglia?" he asked, smirking at Ava.

Ava's eyes widened in shock, then she burst into laughter. "Of course you speak Italian." She shook her head, still smiling. "What can I recommend? All their seafood dishes are good and the pizzas, of course. The chicken balsamico and the lasagna, too."

When Felìcita came back, he ordered the lasagna and Ava took the salmon ravioli. "You come here often?" he asked, watching Felìcita as she bustled through the restaurant.

"Well, most people who know me, they come up to me and start rattling off dates and want to know what I remember about them. The Catalanos don't. I don't mind it, don't get me wrong, but I enjoy actually getting to eat my meal in peace every once in a while, too. Besides," she added, scratching Lily's head, "they adore my little girl."

When they'd finished eating Felìcita returned with one plate of tiramisù and two spoons. "On the house," she said winking at Ava, who blushed and hid her face in her hands.

"Sorry," she mumbled between her fingers.

"She seems very intent on turning this into a rendez-vous," Bucky said, taking a forkful of tiramisù. It was very delicious.

"Yeah, well just because she was already raising a family at my age doesn't mean I have to."

"No one special in your life?"

She snorted. "I'm a cop. I don't have time for special. Besides… finding someone who loves me and doesn't mind me doing my job is not so easy. I love my work and I'm good at it. But it's dangerous and any serious partner would be rightfully worried. That, the long hours and our on-call schedules… needless to say this job doesn't exactly promote healthy love lives and relationships. Many of my older colleagues have been divorced at least once. Assuming they ever married in the first place."

"So you'll stay single for the rest of your life?"

"Who knows," Ava said with a shrug. "I'm not in much of a hurry. What about you? Remember anything about your love life? The internet says you had game with the ladies."

"Whatever that means," he laughed. "No. No memories about that."

"Yet."

Ava let him finish the tiramisù before paying for their food. It took her ten minutes to free herself from Felìcita, who threw another couple of hints in Italian that Bucky would make great husband-material. She could see him grinning over Felìcita's shoulder.

"Let's leave before she calls her priest," she whispered to him, dragging him and Lady out of the restaurant. It had started raining lightly again so they hurried on their way back home.

Back at her place she took Lily off the leash and took off her jacket and shoes, waiting for Bucky to do the same before storing it all away in the hallway closet. "I'll wash these for you," she said, holding up the shopping bags with the clothes she'd bought him and made her way upstairs.

Bucky watched her until she was out of sight before heading into the living room. He retrieved the list she'd written him this morning from the kitchen counter before settling on the same spot of the couch he'd occupied the previous evening. Lily jumped up on the couch beside him to keep him company.

Taking Ava's laptop off the coffee table, Bucky opened it. The background photo was of Ava, Lily and a young, brown-eyed, brunette girl, maybe thirteen or fourteen years old. He stared at the picture for a moment, almost transfixed by Ava's eyes. Amber was a very rare eye color. One, as he'd seen in the photo in the hallway, she'd inherited from her mother, though her mother's eyes had had a more coppery hue rather than the bright, almost gold tint Ava had.

Her eyes were always warm when she looked at him, soothing and trustable, but with a calm, professionally distanced air. The eyes of a woman who'd comforted many victims and bereaved families.

The way her face lit up with pure happiness in the photograph was almost mesmerizing. A moment of unadulterated joy captured on camera. And the look suited her.

He heard her coming back downstairs so he quickly opened a browser and typed in the first item on her list.

Ava found Bucky discovering the joys of Wikipedia. She couldn't help but grin, but left him to it. Seeing as the couch was full she chose to sit in the armchair, picking up her book again and continuing to read. The only good thing about her forced vacation was that she finally had had the time to work her way through the pile of books she'd wanted to read for ages.

She was so engrossed in her reading she didn't even notice the time passing until it became hard for her to see the words on the pages. She looked up to find that the living room had grown darker as the sun started setting. She looked over at Bucky, but he was still completely consumed by what he was reading, his face illuminated by the light from the screen. She leaned over to the floor lamp between the couch and the armchair and switched it on. The sudden light made Bucky flinch and look up, but he calmed again when he found its source.

"You seem troubled," she noted. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," he replied, turning his head to frown at her laptop. "It's just… reading this, kind of makes me realize how much time has passed. And all these wars. Makes me wonder which ones were caused by HYDRA. Which ones…" he trailed off.

"You had a hand in?" she finished for him. He nodded. Putting her book down, she went to the couch, shooing Lady off with one hand motion. She grumbled but complied, settling in her basket instead. Ava took the laptop from him and put it on the coffee table before sitting down beside him and turning to face him. "It doesn't matter."

"Doesn't it?"

"No," she assured him. "If it hadn't been you, it would have been someone else. I will not deny that keeping the Winter Soldier around wasn't a tactical advantage, especially the myth of him. But, whatever they _made_ you do would have been just as pivotal in history had it been committed by some other HYDRA agent. You were… convenient. And they never gave you a choice in the matter."

"So what? Does that make me the victim in all this?" He scowled at the idea.

"You probably would have a right to make that claim, but that's up to you. You are what you let HYDRA make of you. That's your choice. You can go out there and be the villain they tried to turn you into. You can be a victim. Or," Ava said, "you can be a survivor."

"I'm not the first person to get that speech, hmm?"

She smiled. "No. Being used against your will, having your mind and actions twisted into something dark… Abuse comes in many different forms and those who go through it all handle it differently. Some break, some become abusers themselves. Some come out stronger than before. But that's a choice and not always one you can make on your own. Knowing how and where to get help is an important part of it. And yes, I've dealt with this plenty of times, far more than I care to count."

Bucky sighed, letting his head fall back onto the backrest of the couch. She reached out a hand and placed it over his metal one. He reacted by looking down. So he could feel it apparently. Pressure sensors of some sort, perhaps. "You don't have to have it figured out already. It's okay to just take it slowly for now. One step at a time. When you're ready, you'll know what you want and you'll get there. You're strong enough. And you're not alone."

"You?"

"If you want." She did counselling for victims of crime and abuse. Just in the beginning usually, until she could refer them to single or group therapy, but a few of them came back occasionally. Most of them, she thought, she'd helped. But there have been those that she hadn't been able to help and Bucky's case was special, to put it mildly. "And I'm sure Steve would help, too, if you asked him."

"I can't face him. Not after… Not as long…" He swallowed hard. "Not yet."

"That's fine. You have a home until you're ready."

"What if I never am?"

She gave his hand a pat and got up. "Then I better get used to having you around." Of course, Ava knew it wasn't so simple. But, under the circumstances, she didn't know what else to do. He hadn't exactly asked her for counsel though he hadn't turned her help down either. Counselling required a certain emotional distance. Having him live in her home would make that difficult. The proximity alone would make it personal eventually. But she couldn't send him away, not when he still had amnesia and no safe place to go to recover. As long as he was here, at least he'd be safe from all the organizations who probably had an interest in finding him. Just because the NYPD knew nothing of the Winter Soldier, didn't mean the FBI, NSA, CIA and all the other agency acronyms didn't either. And then there was what was left of S.H.I.E.L.D. who may technically be the good guys, but considering Bucky's role in their dissolution, still might not take too kindly to him. And HYDRA of course. Whatever else would happen, he could never fall into their hands again.

So if he accepted her help, she couldn't do it as a counsellor. She'd have to do it as a friend. Which meant that he would not be the only one to spill his fears and nightmares. She'd have to reveal hers, too.

He watched her go into the kitchen and start preparing dinner. With a sigh he righted himself on the couch. Like she'd taken it as a sign, Lily leapt out of her basket and jumped up on the couch again, crawling onto his lap and managing to lick his chin before he could pull out of her reach. He had to smile as he rubbed her sides. Leaning back again, she simply let herself fall on top of him so she was spread out across his chest. She grunted happily as he scratched her belly.

"She can do that for hours," Ava called from the kitchen. "Just so you're warned."

Lily was still sprawled out on top of Bucky by the time Ava was done cooking and it was only the clanking of her own food bowl that made her finally leap off of him. "Told you," she said when he got up and winced at the stiffness in his legs.

"She's heavier than I thought."

"Really? Hm. A little less then maybe," Ava said, putting a bit of the dog food back in the can. Lily whined impatiently at her feet. "In a minute."

Bucky took the plate she'd prepared for him and sat in the same spot as this morning. She'd made paella. A _very_ good paella. "This is great."

"Glad you like it," she said, joining him at the counter while Lily ate her dinner in the corner by the sink.

"Where did you learn to cook like this?"

"My mother," she explained. "She always loved to cook and she put great emphasis on ensuring that I could live off more than frozen meals and cans."

"The article said that… Never mind." He looked uncomfortable now.

Ava took a deep breath. It was now or never. "You can ask me anything you like, Bucky." But he just poked at his paella with his fork, not looking at her. "She was a lawyer. Always took the subway home. It was December 25, 2000. A Monday. Her boss had asked her to come into the office because of some huge case they'd been working on. It was late by the time she let us know she was coming home. My dad and I waited for her with dinner. We had glazed ham and mashed potatoes and coleslaw and a gingerbread cake. We just waited." She couldn't help taking that step back in time, finding herself sitting on that living room couch again, looking at the clock every few minutes and starting to get worried. Her father was pacing up and down in front of her. She could smell the food, feel the warmth of the radiator beside the couch, feel the itch of the Christmas sweater her grandmother had sent her the previous year. "There was a knock at the door. I remember mom had her keys with her. Something isn't right."

Bucky looked up at the slip into present tense. He immediately noticed the faraway look in her eyes. She was talking to him, but she wasn't here anymore. "Dad opens the door and it isn't Mom. It's a cop in uniform. Deputy Reynolds. He tells us… he tells us that there was a mugging in the subway station. That the thief wanted her briefcase but she wouldn't give it to him, so…" His heart dropped. Without even thinking about it, he reached out his right hand, much like she had done only a short while ago, and placed it over hers, giving it a light squeeze. He saw her eyes focus again as she came back to the present. There were tears in her eyes, but she didn't cry. She blinked them away quickly and took a steadying breath. "They found her briefcase in a trash can a few blocks from the subway station. Empty," she said quietly. "She should have just given it to him."

He wanted to say something, but he had no idea what. "Allard always said that a normal person forgets all the little joys in their life and how glad I should be that I can hold on to them. That I should celebrate. But it's not like that. I can't let them go. He kept telling me how wonderful it is that I remember everything." She shook her head. "I _can't_ forget. There's a difference. It's relentless. I remember the faces of all the people I pass on the street. I remember every crime scene I've ever been to. Every victim. All the families."

"Why do you do it then?" Bucky asked, noticing he still had his hand on hers and pulling it back.

"Because I can," Ava replied. "Because… I understand the need to know."

"They never found him," Bucky concluded. "The man who killed your mother."

"No," she confirmed. "And it all but killed my dad. He spent years looking. Nearly destroyed his career. Started drinking. He's sober now, but it was a long, hard road. Even met someone again. Put it all behind him."

"And you?"

"I can't put anything behind me. It took me a long time to learn to control my memories, to not always focus on the bad ones, but to remember the good ones, too. Like that day I spent with my mother at Astroland when I was fourteen. August 20, 1998. A Thursday. Two days after my birthday. She had the day off and called my school, told them I was sick. Which, wasn't actually all that wrong after the Coney Island Cyclone. Though, in my defense, it may have had more to do with the four corn dogs I'd eaten right before I got on it."

Bucky laughed at that, glad she could pick herself up again so fast. He supposed she was used to it. "Coney Island Cyclone," he repeated thoughtfully. "Steve threw up on that thing once, too. I can actually remember that day. I dragged him on it. He wouldn't let me hear the end of it. Not even…" There was a different memory now.

'_This isn't payback, is it?_'

'_Now why would I do that?_'

"I fell," he said as the memory came back. "Off the train." He remembered falling. Darkness. Being dragged through the snow. Waking up in pain. There was something wrong with his arm. '_Sergeant Barnes... the procedure has already started. You are to be the new fist of HYDRA!_'

Suddenly he felt sick. Turning away from the counter, he bent over, sweating and trembling. His heart was racing and no matter how hard he tried his lungs didn't seem to fill with air. He was suffocating.

He felt an arm come up around his chest, keeping him upright and steadying him. "It's alright," a soft voice spoke. "No one's hurting you, Bucky."

But he was in pain. He felt it. And he was cold. Freezing. He was going lightheaded. God, the pain! He wanted it to end. Just let it end!

"Try to breathe, Bucky. Breathe in. Breathe out." He recognized the voice now. It was Ava. It was her arm holding him with surprising strength. Her hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles. He gasped as he took a deep breath and pushed it out again. "That's it," she said calmly. "You're safe, Bucky. No one's hurting you. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. That's it. Everything is going to be alright." He managed to comply with her instructions and found himself back in her dining room. His head cleared again and his heart rate slowed. The pain went away.

"What… What just happened?" he asked.

"Panic attack," Ava said, helping him into a chair at the dining room table. "I didn't mean to trigger you. I'm sorry."

"You couldn't have known. I didn't even know."

She went into the kitchen and grabbed a glass, filling it with water. Coming back, she handed him the glass and he nearly emptied it in one gulp. "Feeling better?" she asked as she kneeled in front of him. Lily came over, sidling past Ava and putting her head on his leg, the weight of it a comforting reassurance.

He nodded. "This will happen again, won't it?"

"Probably," she answered honestly.

"Well, there's something to look forward to," Bucky said cuttingly.

"I'm afraid you can't pick and choose your memories. There will be good and bad ones. Try to learn to focus on the good ones. Try to keep in mind that, whatever you remember, it's in the past and it can't hurt you anymore."

"It felt so real."

"It wasn't," she affirmed. "I know it feels like it is, but it's not. It's only in your head."

He looked at her, meeting her eyes. She looked worried. "Thank you. For helping me."

She gave him a bright, genuine smile. It was the smile from her screen-saver, not the professional one he'd gotten so far. "Don't mention it."

"What were the odds?" he wondered out loud. "That of all the people in this city, I'd run into you."

"The same odds of me running into you," she said simply. "One in 8,405,837."

"Are there people who find it annoying when you do that?"

"Plenty." She got up, the crisis averted. For now. She patted Lily on the head, who stayed at Bucky's side.

Lily had an uncanny ability to know exactly when she was needed. Ava had actually started using her in some of her counselling sessions. Even people who were afraid to be touched by other humans seemed to take comfort in Lily's presence at their side. Next to her training as a SAR dog, Lily had been trained to respond to psychological trauma as well.

After 9/11 the SAR dogs had endangered their lives to find survivors in the wreckage. Beyond that, they had provided comfort to not only the victims but also the firefighters and police officers discouraged and distraught from the growing amount of dead people being recovered. It had proven very useful to the rescue efforts. So Lily's old handler had made use of her natural talent with traumatized people and had added the therapy training.

Lily had been one of the dogs deployed in Midtown Manhattan after the Alien Attack. It had been one of her last missions as a rescue dog. Her therapy training, however, had come in handy for Ava and it appeared that it would do so again now. She responded to Bucky's distress and it seemed he reacted well to her in return. That would certainly help him.

Cleaning up the kitchen gave her the chance to gather her thoughts. She'd known something like this might come. Having no memories had protected him, but as the memories came back, she was sure such attacks would come more frequently. Until he learned to deal with his past. But she was a bit worried. At this point, she doubted Bucky would hurt her intentionally, but there was a possibility that he would lash out during such an attack. Still, she promised him she would help and she always kept her word. She'd just have to be careful.

"I need some fresh air," she heard Bucky say and turned to look at him. "I can do Lily's round, if you don't mind."

"No, of course not. Thank you." He gave her a nod and went out into the hallway, Lily at his heels like she'd understood exactly what had been said.

Ava waited until she heard the front door open and close again, before she let out a deep sigh. She'd made the choice to try to be his friend. So she could help him. She'd known it would mean sharing her past as much as his. But while she could put on a brave face to the world, she couldn't lie to herself. Reliving the memories of her mother's death had left her shaken. They were still as clear as they had been almost fourteen years ago, the emotions of that day and the days that followed still raw and fresh, still threatening to undo her. She remembered how it used to leave her almost apathetic for days, the memories repeating themselves in what seemed like an endless loop. But she'd learned that she didn't have to let her memories control her, that she could break out of the cycle. She had Allard to thank for that. And she would somehow have to teach Bucky that, too. She couldn't make the bad memories go away, but she could teach him to remember that there had been better days. That it was okay to focus on the happier times.

The slight evening chill in the air was refreshing as Bucky walked towards the park. The streets were almost empty now. Lily trotted along beside him and he gave the leash a small tug, the way Ava had done, whenever the leash stretched taut, to make her slow down her pace.

He felt the tension in his shoulders abate the further he walked. He hadn't seen it coming. Ava had warned him that getting his memories back would probably be a difficult process, but he hadn't expected this. It had felt terrifyingly real. The fall, the experimenting they'd done on him. His arm. It was like he'd been there again.

"That's what happens to her," he thought aloud. The memories were always this real to her. Like she was back in whatever moment she remembered. As horrible as it was to remember nothing, Bucky thought that maybe remembering everything, every little detail, was just as bad. Two ends of a scale. Just like Ava had said.

He sat down on a bench, looking up at the monument. The bench was still damp, but he didn't care. Lily jumped up and sat down beside him, panting and looking happy with the world. She had a new friend now after all and a metal arm could scratch just as well as a normal one.

"I envy you," he told her. Lily looked at him, closing her mouth, the right lip getting stuck between her teeth, making her look silly. "Your life is easy. All you have to remember are your orders." He scratched her neck and she leaned into his hand, twisting her neck to give him better access to the sweet spot. "But I know that life, too. I didn't much like it." He hadn't dared to count the lives he'd taken in the span of only a handful of hours on the day he'd fought Steve on the helicarrier. He'd had his orders, kill the targets and anyone getting in his way, and nothing else had mattered. He'd known that if he wouldn't, the punishment would be unbearable. He couldn't remember what they would have done to him, _had done_ to him in the past, only that he would have done anything to avoid it. They'd conditioned him to fear the consequences of his failure. And while the mind wipes had taken his memory of the torture they would put him through if he failed his mission, it hadn't taken the conditioning of that bone-deep, ice-cold fear. He hadn't been afraid of getting injured or dying, but he'd been terrified of failing. Even when he'd started to remember, when he'd started to recognize Steve, he'd been terrified of what would happen if he didn't kill him. He was afraid even now and he had to keep reminding himself that he was not disobeying orders as he hadn't been given any. There was no one giving him orders now.

He looked up at the Prison Ship Monument. It had cost him and Steve a dime each to walk up the newly opened staircase inside the column to see the brilliant view of Manhattan from the platform at the top of the Monument. He remembered Steve telling him the history behind the monument once he'd been able to breathe again after climbing the many stairs.

Steve. The ache he always seemed to carry in his chest nowadays swelled at the memory of his friend. He missed him. He missed the feeling that came with the few memories he had of him. The feeling of better days. Struggles and joys. Warmth. The very feeling that had saved him.

'_Cause I'm with you till the end of the line._' Something had snapped in his mind in that moment. Something that had brought back enough of Bucky Barnes to fight against the conditioning, to think clearly for the first time in decades. Which had been just as frightening. All of a sudden he'd been a person again. A person who had once known something other than pain, fear and death. Someone who'd once had loved ones. One of which he'd nearly succeeded in killing. Or the Winter Soldier had nearly succeeded. Bucky Barnes had ultimately fished his friend out of the river and saved him from drowning.

But who was he now? He wasn't the Winter Soldier anymore. Not entirely. But he wasn't really Bucky Barnes either.

Beside him, Lily perked up and jumped off the bench as someone approached. "Hey Lily," the girl said, kneeling down to pet the dog. He recognized the long, straight, brown hair, heart-shaped face, pale skin and dark brown eyes. It was the girl from Ava's screen saver.

She looked up at Bucky, her smile still in place. "You must be the guy living with Ava." She came towards him, Lily at her side. "I'm Charlie. Charlotte. I'm Charlotte Dormer, but you can call me Charlie. I'm your neighbor. Ava's neighbor, I mean. Sort of yours at the moment, I guess." She blushed as she stumbled over her own words.

Bucky pretended not to notice. "I'm James Barnes. But you can call me Bucky."

"It's nice to meet you," she said. She gave him a shy smile before self-consciously turning her attention to Lily.

"Isn't it a bit late for you to be walking through a park alone?" Bucky asked. He was no expert on the matter, but if he had a kid he wouldn't want it out and about in a dark park.

"Well, yeah," she said, blushing again. "I was at a friend's place. For a school project. Her mom wanted to drive me home, but she's had a long day and I didn't want to inconvenience her. And it's only around the corner."

Bucky had to smile. "I doubt it would have been inconvenient for her." He got up, grabbing Lily's leash. "I'm heading back anyway. Join us?"

Charlie nodded, staying close to Lily. "She likes you," she noted as they started walking towards the park's exit.

"I get the feeling Lily likes everyone."

Charlie shook her head. "She doesn't. Mom says she knows a good person when she sees one. She barks at people she doesn't like when they get too close. Ava does that, too. Not bark," she corrected herself. "Not in the literal sense anyway."

Bucky had to laugh at that. "I can see that." She certainly looked like she could take care of herself.

"Don't tell her I said she barks."

"My lips are sealed."

"Thanks." Charlie stayed silent for a moment, then she couldn't seem to help herself anymore. "Why are you living with Ava?"

He thought for a moment, wondering how much he could tell her. A simplified version of the truth probably wouldn't hurt. "I don't have a home at the moment and Ava said she would try helping me with my amnesia."

"Amnesia? You don't know where you're from?"

"Brooklyn," he answered honestly. "But that was a long time ago. It's more a matter of finding out what happened in between."

"Why don't you have a home now?"

"I was in a war."

Charlie nodded in understanding. "I've done some volunteer work at a Vet Center. Is that where you got your amnesia? In the war?"

Bucky nodded. It was close enough to the truth.

"How long will you stay with Ava?" Charlie asked.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Until I find out where to go."

She looked thoughtful for a moment. "I think Ava can help you with that. She's good with that sort of thing."

"Have you known her for long?"

"Since she moved here. About three years ago. She can probably give you an exact date and tell you how the weather was and what clothes we all wore. If you need to know that kind of stuff."

"Do you see her a lot?"

"She usually works a lot, so she isn't home as much as she is lately. But she lets me come over on the weekends and watch TV and play with Lily. She helps me with my homework sometimes, too. And I watch Lily when Ava can't take her into the office with her or when she's on call."

Bucky let Charlie talk as they walked, answering her questions as much as he could without revealing the truth. The girl was pretty chatty once she warmed up, but she was a nice and clever girl.

When they reached the brownstone next to Ava's, she ran up the steps to the front door, waving at him as she went inside. "Night Bucky! Night Lily! Say hello to Ava for me." With that she vanished behind the closing door.

Shaking his head with a smile, Bucky continued to Ava's house, letting himself in with the spare key she'd given him. After letting Lily off the leash and taking off his shoes and jacket and hanging it up in the hall closet, he headed into the living room. He found Ava sitting in her armchair, reading her book. She was almost done.

She looked up when she noticed him in the doorway and smiled. "Feeling better now?"

"Much," he replied and went over to sit on the couch. The end closest to her. "What would I have to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said you'd be willing to help me. What would I have to do?"

"Nothing you'd feel uncomfortable with," she answered calmly, putting her book on the coffee table and giving him her full attention. "What you wish to tell me, if you want to tell me anything, and how much you want to let me in is entirely up to you. I'll help you by giving you a place to stay if that's all you want. Or I can help you work through whatever problems come up. You don't have to tell me anything. As a matter of fact, from personal experience I know that talking doesn't always help. But sometimes it does. What you want to share and when is your choice. I'm here either way. I'll listen and help in any way I can."

Bucky nodded. "I would appreciate that."

She smiled again, putting her hand over his. His hand was still chilled from the evening cold and her hand felt remarkably warm against his. "Then that's what I'll do. I promise."


	3. Sunday, May 11, 2014

**Chapter 03: Sunday, May 11, 2014**

At first, Ava did not know what had woken her up. It took her a moment to realize that it was Lily whimpering out in the hallway. Turning around, she could see the digits displayed on her alarm clock. 02:31 AM. Surely, the dog didn't need to go outside.

Deciding to better be safe than sorry, Ava got up with a sigh and opened the door. Lily was not there. Usually when the dog wanted something she'd be right outside Ava's door. Not tonight. Looking down the hallway she found Lily sitting in front of the closed guestroom door, whining again. When she realized Ava was watching, she jumped up at the door, scratching at it.

"Lily don't." Still, Ava walked over, wondering what had Lily so transfixed on the door. As she got closer she could here it. Groaning and thrashing and mumbling.

_Bad dream_, she realized. She'd expected this to happen as his memories returned. Apparently she was not going to be disappointed. She wished she could be.

Lily jumped at the door again, yowling.

_Sergeant Barnes... the procedure has already started_. They were torturing him, doing strange things to him. Injecting him with liquids that burned through his veins. He was falling and falling. Everything was cold and dark. A saw cutting through an arm. His arm.

_Then wipe him and start over_. He was pushed back, his arms secured. He couldn't move. The pain was coming. He knew it. Unimaginable pain.

There was something wet and warm on his face. That wasn't part of the procedure. The glimmering of the safety deposit boxes faded into black. He wasn't restrained in a hard operating chair. He was lying on his back in a warm, soft bed. Something heavy was lying on his metal arm, leaning against his side, fur tickling the bare skin of his torso.

Bucky pulled himself out of the darkness, dragging his eyes open just to find himself looking up a dog's nostrils as Lily's tongue swiped over his nose. The left side of his face already felt very sticky.

Pulling his arm out from underneath her, he gently but firmly pushed the dog away from his face. "Enough," he said, his voice sounding faint. "Thank you, girl. Enough now."

"Lily stop." The dog instantly stopped trying to get to his face. But she stayed on the bed, her warm body still pressed against his side, fixing him with an attentive gaze. Bucky, however, had his attention drawn to Ava, who was standing by the bathroom door. He also noticed that the light in his room was on and it had been since he'd woken up. "Sorry about that," she said quietly. "She was very adamant about being the one who gets to wake you."

"'S fine," he replied, rubbing Lily behind the ear. "Nightmare."

"I gathered as much." Ava moved over to him. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she held out a small, wet towel to him. "Unless you prefer the dog slobber."

Reaching over Lily, he grabbed the towel with his free right hand and wiped his face clean before handing it back. Ava took it and let it drop to the floor. "Are you alright?"

He nodded. "Now I am." He still felt a bit nauseated, but it was getting better now that he was awake.

"You were mumbling in your sleep. You kept begging someone to stop. Were they hurting you?"

Bucky raised his metal hand away from Lily's head, looking at it. It gleamed in the light. Like those deposit boxes. Ava's hands came up to wrap around his metal one. She seemed to have no qualms about touching it. He could feel that she was holding it. The pressure sensors in the arm told him that. They didn't tell him anything about the softness and warmth of her skin though. "They're not going to get to you again, Bucky," she said quietly.

"In a way they still have me."

Ava sighed and nodded in understanding. "It will be a long time before it gets better. But it does."

"I dreamed about what they did to me while I was a prisoner in Austria. The tortures. The experiments. At least the parts I was conscious for. I remember how I got this," he said, raising his metal arm slightly.

"You were awake for that?" she asked, her eyes widening in horror. Her gaze went to his shoulder where metal was fused to skin. She lightly touched the scars around his metal shoulder. He could feel the slight pressure of her fingers, but the skin around the scar tissue was numb. "I figured they hadn't exactly handled you with kid gloves, but… God, this is much worse than I thought."

"Anesthetics were hard to come by at the time even if they'd cared."

"Are you defending them?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

He thought about it for a moment. "Guess I am. Never mind then." One of her fingers trailed over a patch of skin with feeling in it and a strange kind of shiver ran through his body. It was a nice kind of feeling and he almost wished to have it again, but she pulled her hand away. He couldn't remember the last time someone had touched him without the intention to hurt him.

"I remember a bit of what happened before the last time they wiped me. After I fought Steve on the bridge." He looked at her for confirmation that she knew what he was talking about and she gave him a nod. "They had set up a make-shift lab of sorts in a bank vault. They bound me to a chair and this machine moved over my head. Then there's only pain."

"Is that how they wiped your memory? With that machine?"

"I think so," Bucky said. "I remember nothing after that."

Ava looked thoughtful. He knew she had an interest in their methods to erase memories. He wondered for a moment whether a part of her wanted to erase some of her own memories. His eyes fell on the pink scar that disappeared in the neckline of the tank top she was wearing.

Lily yawned and put her head down on Bucky's chest. Even a dog's yawn seemed to be contagious, because a moment later he found himself covering his own yawn with his right hand. Now that he had fully calmed down again he felt sleep roll over him again.

"I can leave Lily here with you," Ava offered.

"Thought you said she's not supposed to be in here."

She shrugged. "Desperate times and all that."

"Then I'd like to keep her here," he decided. He was not going to let Lily use him as her personal pillow, but he felt that having her with him would help him sleep better. At the very least, she'd wake him up again if his nightmares became too intense.

Ava nodded and got up, grabbing the wet towel off the floor. "I'll leave the door open enough for her to get out if she wants to."

"Yeah," he replied. "Good night."

"Good night, Bucky." With that she switched off the light again and left his room, leaving the door slightly ajar. Just enough for Lily to paw it open if she wanted to get out.

The sunlight only just started to flood his room when Bucky was woken by a car honking in the street below. He still felt incredibly tired. Lily had woken him twice more during the night. He couldn't remember those dreams, only that he'd been sweaty and his heart had been pounding.

He was lying on his side, his metal arm buried underneath Lily's head, who was using it as a pillow, her back pressed against his chest. He could see she was awake, but clearly had no intention of getting up, let alone move. Bucky was fine with that, he didn't feel like getting up either.

Bucky let himself doze off and must have fallen asleep again, because when he opened his eyes again, Lily was gone and it was almost nine o'clock. Deciding to get up, he dressed and went downstairs.

There was a cup of tea and a plate of blueberry pancakes waiting for him on the counter. They were still warm, too. Ava must have heard him get up and get ready. He found Ava outside in the yard, sitting at a small wrought-iron garden table, feet up on a second chair and a newspaper crossword puzzle balanced on her raised knees. Lily was in the back of the small yard rolling in the grass and looking incredibly happy with life. The sky was gray again and he thought he could recall hearing it rain during the night, but it was warm and he assumed Ava had toweled the chairs and table dry so she could sit outside.

Stepping through the open French doors, he settled in the free chair beside her, putting his plate and tea down on the table. "Good morning."

"Good morning to you, too," she said. "How did the rest of your night go?"

"Not too bad I think," he replied, digging into his pancakes. He hadn't realized how hungry he'd been until he'd smelled them. "Lily's kept a good eye on me."

"Glad to hear it."

"I'm sorry for waking you the other night."

"Lily actually woke me, but it's fine either way. I don't mind." She scribbled letters into her crossword with a pen. "Ten letters. F. Scott Fitzgerald's debut novel of post World War I American youth. Title ends with '_Paradise_'."

"This Side of," Bucky answered. "I thought you know everything."

"I don't know everything," Ava replied as she wrote down his answer. "I remember everything. Like the fact that I've never read '_This Side of Paradise_' by Fitzgerald. Have you?"

"I think so," he said. "I remember the title. I think I remember some of the story. I just can't remember reading it."

"Hmm. Opposite of NNW?"

He thought for a moment. "SSE."

She made an unhappy sound. "Should have thought of that myself. Thanks." She put her crossword aside and hid a yawn behind her hand. When she caught sight of his guilty expression, she smiled at him. "You're not the only one with bad dreams. It has nothing to do with you."

"What did you dream of?"

"A crime scene I've been to two years ago today. Wife and husband. He'd been bound to a chair while she'd been raped. They made him watch before they killed both of them."

"They? You caught them?"

"Yeah. Took us a while, though. A man and a woman. Psychopathic serial killers as it turned out. We know of seven other murders they committed in five different states over the course of two years. And that's just the ones we found."

"Are all your cases like that?"

"No, fortunately not." Ava sighed. "The hardest part is always dealing with the families. Telling someone their loved one died… the world as they knew it ends then and there. And it feels cruel sometimes that the rest of the world keeps spinning when it feels like it should stop."

Bucky remained silent. As more and more fragments of memories came back to him, he remembered some of the people that had fallen victim to the Winter Soldier. He didn't know their names. Didn't know if they'd deserved it or not. Didn't know which ones had had families. The same went for the Nazi and HYDRA soldiers he'd killed before that. It had been part of his missions. Something that had to be done. For a greater purpose. Freedom. A better world. It's what he'd fought for in the war alongside Steve. It's what HYDRA had made him believe he was fighting for again. They'd just neglected to tell him the rest of the story.

Killing was a part of war. Whether that war was in Germany, the Middle East or in the middle of Washington DC. The location made no difference. It didn't make that moment when a life left a body any less awful. The few kills he could remember affected him profoundly. Even if the target had been someone trying to kill him or one of his fellow Commandos. But the soldier part of him – the part that could compartmentalize the human tragedy – could view these kills as objectively justified and necessary. At least until HYDRA had come along and screwed around with his brain and moral code. They'd used him. Used the fact that he was capable and willing to get his hands dirty for a greater purpose and it made him feel angry and – maybe irrationally – betrayed.

Ava's hand on his pulled him from his thoughts. "All those dark thoughts," she said," will haunt you enough throughout the days. Don't dwell on them more than you have to."

"I dwell on what I remember. It seems to be mainly bad things."

Ava nodded. "I know what you mean, but it's not true. But it does feel that way sometimes. You've gone through a lot of bad things, Bucky. And the brain is wired to remember bad situations – situations you're supposed to avoid in the future – more easily than good things."

"Seems a bit backwards."

"Not from an evolutionary point of view. The brain has a negative bias, meaning it's hardwired to remember negative things more clearly than positive things. As nice as it may be to remember a nice campfire in the home-cave, it was more important for our ancestors to remember that eating this particular mushroom made them feel sick or that sabre-tooth tigers don't make very cuddly pets. That's probably why adrenaline is such an important component of building memories. It anchors those memories that are important for an individual's survival. What not to do."

"Doesn't work for everyone apparently," Bucky said. There were a few memories floating around in his head of a scrawny little punk getting beaten in some dark alley because he never seemed to learn to pick his battles. He smiled at the memories.

"See? There's a memory worth holding on to," Ava said, her thump stroking the back of his hand. He was glad that she didn't pull away.

The feeling of her soft, warm skin on his made a nice shiver run down his back. Ava had touched him a few times now, but always in small comforting gestures. It made him want more. All the memories he had of close contact were of combat or HYDRA procedures. He couldn't remember anyone holding his hand or hugging him. Kissing him. Touching him just for the sake of it. Because they wanted to and he wanted them to. But he thought he knew what it would feel like to have someone hold his hand, to have another body pressed against him or to feel a pair of soft lips press against his. He knew those sensations. He must have experienced them once. He just had no memories to go with these feelings. But this was not the time to brush up on them. He still missed most of his memories and he was far from completely safe from HYDRA. Besides, he had a plan for the near future and there was certainly no place for love in it.

"I was supposed to meet a friend today. Do you think you'll be okay here on your own or do you prefer I'd cancel. I'm fine with either."

"I'll be fine," Bucky replied. She was already doing so much for him. He wasn't going to make her cancel her plans as well. Though a part of him was touched that she would and he believed her when she said that she'd be okay with it. Because that's what she did. She was willing to bend her life out of shape to accommodate him even though it had to be weird for her to have some stranger from the street move in. Especially if that stranger had a history as an assassin. "I'll try not to burn down the house."

"I'll leave Lily with you, if you don't mind. I should be back in time for her afternoon walk though," she said, getting up and heading inside. "And if you do need anything, you can call me, I'll leave my number here," she called from the counter, leaning over the notepad to scribble down her cellphone number. "Or ask Melody next door. I'm sure she won't mind helping. There's still enough paella left for when you get hungry. Do you think you can handle the microwave or do you need me to show you?"

Bucky had no idea if he could handle the microwave or not. So far he'd had the necessary knowledge come to him whenever he was faced with modern appliances, but he couldn't quite think of any mission that would require the Winter Soldier to use a microwave. So he got up and let Ava give him a quick instruction. It was simple enough and he probably would have figured it out on his own, but now he didn't have to experiment around.

"I've written you a list of some things that might be of cultural importance. You can check that out or help yourself to a book. Or if you'd rather do something else, there's a small home gym downstairs in the basement. Nothing special though. I can show you that, too."

"I'll be fine, I think. Might go for a run though."

"You do that." Bucky followed her to the front door, where she put on her shoes and jacket and grabbed her car keys. "Don't forget your key when you leave the house. And be careful, okay?"

He rolled his eyes at her. "I'll put on a sweater if it gets cold and look both ways before crossing the street. I'll be careful, Mother."

Ava scrunched up her nose cutely. "I think the car might take more damage than you. Besides, that's not what I meant."

"I know. I'll keep my head down."

She said goodbye and left the house, leaving Bucky alone in the hallway. Turning, he made his way to the stairs leading down to the basement. He hadn't actually seen it yet. That and Ava's bedroom, but he hadn't gotten permission for that yet and considering her self-sacrifice for him the least he could do was respect her boundaries. But she had told him he could go into the basement, so that was what he would start with.

The walls and the tile floor in the single, large room were beige with terracotta rugs. Mediterranean was the theme of colors and decoration. Right across from the door was a fully stocked bar with high stools pushed up against the counter. A small, brown leather sofa stood against the wall to his right. This seemed to function as a small party room. On the far end of the room, Ava had put together a small home gym. A treadmill, a weight bench, and a few mats for floor exercises. Better than nothing, he supposed. But, if he considered that Ava probably hadn't gotten a lot of exercise since she'd gotten shot in February, he had to assume that she usually got her workouts somewhere else. She was too fit to have only exercised here.

Heading back upstairs to his bedroom he changed into the running outfit Ava had bought him and tied his hair back so it wouldn't get in the way. He'd go for a run before sitting down to go through Ava's lists. He hadn't even finished her first one yet. But he really felt like he needed to move right now. He'd been sitting around for too long already.

Downstairs again, Bucky considered taking Lily with him, but ultimately decided against it. He didn't know how long he'd run and he didn't want to risk putting strain on Lily's heart condition if he ran for too long. So he grabbed his house key and left alone. He had no destination in mind. No time limit. Just see how long he could go.

"I'm not lying down on that," Ava said with a note of finality in her voice. "Bad enough we're spending our girls' day here in the first place," she added, motioning around her at the morgue. "But I'm not lying down on one of your autopsy tables."

"Oh for heaven's sake," Maggie said. "They're by far the cleanest tables you'll ever see. What with all the disinfectants they use on them." Dr. Margaret Deering was in her late fifties with chin-long, blond hair and blue eyes. She was by far the smartest woman Ava had ever met and probably could have become Chief Medical Examiner a long time ago if she didn't make a habit of running her mouth off to the wrong people. Instead she remained a senior medical examiner working out of the Brooklyn branch of the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner in East Flatbush, right across the street from the Kings County Hospital Center. Not that Maggie minded. As she said, she had no time for the politics of the job.

"I'm not dead yet, Mags."

"Despite your hardest efforts," Maggie replied dryly. "Fine, I can look at it with you standing."

"Thank you." Ava took off her jacket and t-shirt, letting Maggie take a look at her scar.

"It looks fine," Maggie said. "As far as I can tell it's healing well. Raise your arms and pull them back as far as you can."

Ava did as she was told, but she could barely get her arms past her shoulders before a stab of pain shot through her chest. She slumped forward, holding on to the side of the metal slab beside her. The pain was gone almost as quick as it had come.

"Now take a deep breath in," Maggie instructed.

Ava filled her lungs, but the pain quickly returned. "Mm, no. I can't."

"It should not still hurt like that. What did your trauma surgeon say?"

"That as far as he can tell everything is healing as it should, but that everyone heals at their own rate."

"Hmm." Maggie handed Ava her shirt again and she pulled it over her head. "You could still be in pain because of a post-traumatic, psychopathological reaction to what's happened to you."

"Or because a .38 caliber bullet went through me."

"Do you have any idea how lucky you are to be alive?" Maggie asked. "If the bullet hadn't glanced off the sternum it would have gone straight through your heart. You would have been dead before you hit the ground."

"By all accounts it bordered on a miracle that I survived what did happen to me," Ava reminded her. "And it's not fair that I did and…" She forced the memory of that night down. She didn't need that right now.

Maggie looked at her sadly. "I know. But nothing in life is ever fair."

"You don't have to tell me." Ava sighed, pulling her jacket back on. It was a bit chilly in the morgue. Not that its usual clientele cared much about that. "I see how unfair life can be everyday on the job. More often than not it's the wrong person that ends on your table. And sometimes it's something worse than death."

"Worse? Thinking of someone specific?"

She did. "No. No one specific."

"Okay, spill," Maggie said. "What's going on? Your injury isn't the only thing on your mind today."

"I met someone," Ava admitted.

The grin on Maggie's face made her look like the cat that got the canary. "Details!"

Ava snorted. "Nothing like that."

Maggie looked disappointed. "What's the point of having a twenty-nine year old friend if I can't live vicariously through her?"

Ava shook her head, chuckling. "Live your own life, Mags."

"I can do both. Now spill."

"He's a war veteran with amnesia and no home so now he's living with me." The short, revised story didn't really do Bucky much justice.

"Let me repeat that," Maggie said, "You have a guy who knows his way around a weapon and that you know nothing about living in your house? Someone who doesn't even know anything about himself? He could be violent."

"'_Could_' being the operative word. He hasn't been so far."

"Course. He's got amnesia," Maggie said, rolling her eyes at Ava. "If he kills you, I'm dissecting your brain. I've wanted a close up look at it for ages. Speaking of; March 22, 1997."

"March 22, 1997 was… a Saturday. Fourteen year-old Tara Lipinski became the youngest women's world figure skating champion, the Comet Hale-Bopp made its closest approach to earth and Jake Goldman gave me a kiss on the cheek at Haley Carmichael's thirteenth birthday party."

"Jake Goldman huh?"

"My first crush. Only lasted another month after that when he decided to pursue Haley who, according to him, was older and more sophisticated."

"More sophisticated?"

"Her breasts developed long before mine did."

"I imagine," Maggie said. "You're still waiting on yours."

"Hey!" She slapped Maggie's arm, looking down at herself. Admittedly, they could be bigger. So what if she was more the athletic type than the sensual one? "They are fine as they are."

"They would be if you wore the push-up bras I keep telling you to get."

"They're uncomfortable and I don't need them. Besides, if I used them for the purpose you have in mind, the truth would come out soon enough anyway. Might as well go in with all the cards on the table."

"Speaking of sex on the table–"

"That's not what I–"

"–if you've already got some man meat at home, you might as well make use of it."

"Just a minute ago you've told me you'd dissect my brain if he murdered me, now you want me to sleep with him?"

"If he does kill you it might as well be with a big, fat grin on your face."

"That's assuming he _can_ put a big, fat grin on my face."

"Unattractive? Inexperienced?"

"Very attractive. I don't know. Neither does he."

"Hmm. Pity." Maggie went over to the small fridge in the corner and took out a lunch box. "Haven't had breakfast today. Early start," she explained, motioning towards the covered body on the slab farthest from them.

"You keep your food in the fridge with the samples you take from dead people?"

"It's in a box," Maggie said with a shrug. "Anyway, if not with your amnesiac veteran, you should find someone else to have sex with."

"Why?"

"A: Why not? B: The increased blood flow, the rush of endorphins… it would be very beneficial for your recovery."

"I'll recover on my own, thank you."

"You haven't had sex since… when?" She clearly expected Ava to provide her with an answer, but Ava just shrugged. She wasn't going to give Maggie even more ammunition just because her last somewhat meaningful relationship had ended one year, seven months, and three days ago on October 8, 2012. A Monday that would have been hard for anyone to forget.

Ava had never seen the appeal in sleeping with a virtual stranger. At the very least there had to be some sort of emotional connection for her. Emotional connections, however, where hard to come by with her work hours. Not that it mattered to her. She usually had more important things to worry about. "A long time," Maggie concluded instead. "Cowgirl should get back in the saddle. It's good for your health."

"You know, sex isn't the solution for everything."

"No," Maggie agreed. "But it's a damn good distraction."

Bucky had only just finished his shower after his run and had settled onto the couch with Ava's laptop, when the doorbell rang. Getting up he made his way to the door. He knew Ava had her key so it wasn't her.

Lily was already waiting by the door, wagging her tail and whining. It seemed to be someone she knew. So probably not some HYDRA agent. Not that HYDRA would bother to ring the doorbell anyway.

Opening the door, he found himself faced with Charlie. "Hey Bucky. Hey Lily."

"Hello Charlie," he replied, quickly hiding his left hand behind his back. Thank God he'd picked a long-sleeved shirt. "Ava isn't home."

"I know," Charlie said. "Her car isn't here."

"Can I help you with something then?"

"Can I come in?"

Bucky hesitated. He didn't really know the protocol for these things. _Protocol? Really? She's a kid!_ he chastised himself in his head. "I guess."

He stepped out of the way and Charlie came in, took off her shoes and jacket, put them away in the closet and made her way to the couch. All with a pinpoint accuracy that let Bucky know she'd done it plenty of times before. Well, she had told him as much the other evening.

"This should be good," he sighed, grabbing his leather glove and pulling it over his left hand before following her into the living room. Charlie had taken his usual spot on the couch and Lily was spread out across the rest of it. Which left him with Ava's armchair. He didn't like the idea of sitting with his back to the windows, but he had no other choice.

"Woodstock?" Charlie asked, reading the heading of the Wikipedia article he'd just started.

"Yeah," Bucky answered. "I've kind of forgotten a few historical things and Ava's made me a list of things to read up on. Cultural references and such."

Charlie stared at him. "And you're trying to catch up on all that with a few Wikipedia articles?"

"What else can I do?"

"Experience it." Getting up, she rushed to the cabinet the television stood on. "Hmm. What to start with?" she asked herself. She flipped through a few DVDs. "_Strangers on a Train_ is cool and it's a classic. Or _Die Hard_. Maybe _The Matrix_ or _Star Wars_?" She looked at him critically. "Better leave those to Ava." She sorted through the DVDs again. "Aha!" She pulled one out. "You'll have to suffer through it eventually. Just like everyone else did. Might as well start with that."

He looked at the cover. It depicted the bow of a ship with the heads of a man and a woman floating above it. He read the title. "Titanic?"

Ava came home a lot later than she'd expected. Then again, considering it had been Maggie she'd spent her time with, she really should have expected it. When she walked into the living room she found Bucky lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling with Lily sprawled across his chest.

"Everything alright?" she asked.

"No, not really."

"What's wrong? What happened? Did you remember something bad again?"

"In a manner."

Ava was admittedly confused. Looking around the room, her gaze fell on an open DVD case beside the DVD player. She nearly burst into laughter. "Was Charlie here?"

"Yes," he answered. "A minute into the movie I remembered what happened to that damn tub. I don't even know what's more depressing; the second half of the movie or the fact that Leonardo DiCaprio still doesn't have an Oscar." Ava laughed, familiar with Charlie's running commentary.

"The Titanic sank before you were born." She leaned down over the back of the couch, bracing her elbows on the backrest. She looked at him, noticing again just how handsome he actually was.

"Ship like that doesn't sink and gets forgotten right away." He looked at her, his blue eyes surprisingly soft. She couldn't help reflecting on what Maggie had said she should do with him and while looking at him lying on the couch like this, it didn't even sound like the worst idea in the world. But it would be. For both their sakes there had to be certain boundaries that were not to be crossed.

"Apparently not," she said, smirking at him. "I don't have those movies myself, but I know Charlie owns them, so… if she turns up with DVDs called _Twilight_, _New Moon_, _Eclipse_, or _Breaking Dawn 1_ and _2_, you have my permission to throw her out of the house. With bodily force if necessary."

"That bad?"

"Worse. A whole new brand of torture. Not even HYDRA could have come up with something that evil. Especially the books. They melt your brain."

"I appreciate the warning." He tried to stretch a bit, but stopped when Lily grumbled in her sleep. "Charlie mentioned a few other movies but said I should watch them with you."

Ava nodded. "Probably the thrillers and action movies. They tend to come with a lot of explosions and gunfire. I guess I should be glad she's smart enough to realize that those things might be a problem for a vet."

"You think it might be a problem?"

Ava shrugged. "Trying it out is the only way to be sure. Just need to figure out if I'll throw you in and see if you can swim or if I'll ease you in at the shallow end."

"I have no idea what you just said."

"Maybe start with something like _Harry Potter_. Good bit of action, but not too bad."

"As opposed to?"

"_Mission: Impossible_. Lots of guns, lots of fights, lots of car chases, and explosions."

"I'll have to trust you with the decision."

Ava sighed. She understood how situations could trigger memories. It happened to her plenty of times. But it was hard to guess how far she could push Bucky. She wanted his memories to come back naturally and with minimal trauma, but that wasn't the life he'd lived. His life was a mess. A chain of awful events. She knew he'd have to work through every one of them eventually no matter how much she wished she could spare him that pain. She just didn't know what his reaction would be.

If he was triggered, became confused about his whereabouts, about who she was, it was possible that his training as a soldier would kick in and she would have nothing to oppose him with. Her service gun, a SIG P226 DAO, was gone, locked away in the safe in her boss' office along with her shield, and her off-duty weapon, a Glock 26, was still in evidence after she'd used it to shoot one of the attackers in February. She'd taken combat training from an ex-Navy SEAL for a few years and she was familiar with a few martial arts forms, but she had the feeling that her combat experiences wouldn't do her much good against the Winter Soldier.

"I'll give it some thought, but now I think Lily needs her walk." Lily perked up and scrambled off of Bucky's chest.

He groaned in pain. "That's the thanks I get for letting you sleep on me."

Ava snorted. "_You_ letting _her_? I think you've got something confused, good sir. Clearly, _she's_ giving _you_ the honor of being her pillow."

Bucky smirked. "My mistake." He got up and stretched before following Ava into the hall. They put on their shoes and jackets and headed outside.

"You were gone a long time," Bucky noted just before they reached the park. "Who did you meet?"

"Dr. Margaret Deering. She's a medical examiner I've worked with on a few cases. Lots of brains, lots of attitude and not shy with her opinions. Needless to say we became friends almost instantly. What about you? How did your run go?"

"Fine. I stayed in the area. And Charlie dropped by shortly after I got back."

"If it bothers you that she's coming by, just say so. I can tell Melody to ask her not to come by for now."

"No, it's fine. It was very… informative."

Ava laughed at that. "I have no doubt." Charlie could talk a million miles a minute.

"She told me she comes over every once in a while when you're around, but I was surprised when she apparently came to visit me."

"Really? I'm not." Ava had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

"You're not?"

"Of course not." Bucky still looked confused, so Ava elaborated, "She's fourteen and you're quite good looking."

"Is that normal?"

Ava shrugged. "At that age I was madly in love with Kevin Richardson. A member of the boy band _Backstreet Boys_. Him and Justin Timberlake from _'N Sync_. I still have the CDs if you want to listen to them."

"I think I'm good for now, thanks."

"Just as well. The nineties boy bands are certainly not something you missed out on. More about selling attractive faces to young girls than selling good music. Though it certainly worked well enough."

"Must have if you were such a fan."

"My perfect memory doesn't always protect me from being as stupid as everyone else. I just get to remember those youthful indiscretions more clearly than others do."

"Many indiscretions?"

"Oh, so many. Almost too many for even me to keep track of. Almost." He looked at her expectantly. "Oh what? You want me to tell you all of them?"

"The best ones at least. Not much else to do, after all."

"Alright, fine. You want embarrassing anecdotes, you can have them, but I want some in return once you remember your past."

"Deal."

So Ava told him a few of her stories. Bucky liked the way she could color them with so much detail. If he asked, he supposed, she could give him an exact recount, make him think he was there.

In return, he told her a few stories that he already remembered. Most of them had to do with a sickly, small Steve getting himself in trouble and Bucky bailing him out.

"You do realize," Ava said, "that it doesn't really count as embarrassing when you tell stories of your back alley heroics, right?"

"I just told you how I got beaten up after slipping on ice. That is embarrassing."

"Beaten up by five boys your age and size. And in the end you won the damn fight anyway. That is not embarrassing," Ava replied. "That's… very impressive." Ava gave a short whistle in Lily's direction to keep the dog from running off too far. The dog stopped and waited for them to catch up before trotting ahead again.

"I only won after Steve knocked out their leader by hitting him over the head with a trash can lid."

"That's still four on one and you're really just boasting."

"Fine, so I don't remember anything embarrassing yet. I'll let you know once I do."

"And I just gave you so much ammunition against me."

"I promise not to use it against you." With a smirk he added, "Much." It earned him a whack on the right arm.

"I guess I can see how you became a triple welterweight champion. You got lots of practice." Steve sounded like he used to be like one of those little dogs that ran to the ends of their leash and bark at the much bigger dogs despite having a snowball's chance in hell. Until they'd turned him into a big dog anyway.

"Was I?"

"Haven't you bothered looking yourself up yet?"

"No."

"Why not? Worried about what you might find?"

"Yes and no," he admitted. "It's just… I'd be reading about my own life. Only it wouldn't really be mine." It was hard to explain. Bucky just didn't like reading about a man that was supposed to be him. Someone who'd been a good man and who'd died a hero. Because that wasn't really him. He was… something else.

Ava entwined her fingers with his and gave his hand a squeeze, pulling him out of his thoughts. "I can't really say that I understand," she said softly. "But you have to keep in mind that you've had a life before all this. And the man in those stories… he might sound like a stranger to you, but he's not. That's the man who faced five bullies to protect his friend. And won." She stopped and turned to him, forcing him to come to a standstill as well. "We all live a lot of lives in our lifetime. I'm not the same person that I was ten years ago. A year ago. Hell, I'm not the same person I was just three months ago. It's the same with you. Bucky gave way to Sergeant Barnes. You can't go through a war and come out unchanged. You became someone else again the first time HYDRA captured you. Sergeant Barnes gave way to the Winter Soldier. And he gave way to who you are now. Someone new."

"A blank page."

"No," Ava said. "We might change over a lifetime, but not fundamentally. I believe that there are core characteristics that stay with us. Bucky, from what I've learned, was a brilliant, loyal, honest, and kind person. And brave, too. Someone who stood up for a sickly little kid. Someone prepared to take the beating for a friend. Sergeant Barnes did that, too. Only he was also fierce and competent as a soldier who truly believed in his duty to protect his country and was willing to do anything when it came to protecting his friends and the innocent. A very good soldier. Someone prepared to do the dirty work to save others that burden. Someone who followed his friend back into a war, to have his back, despite the hell he's already suffered through when he could have been honorably discharged as a POW." She gave his hand another squeeze, drawing his eyes to hers. "HYDRA used those traits to turn the Winter Soldier into an efficient weapon, someone who would eliminate his target without hesitance or remorse, who wouldn't stop until his mission was complete. But they couldn't turn him into a bully, because fundamentally that was a trait that never existed to begin with. I think that's why, despite everything they've done to you, they still had to wipe your memories, because Bucky was always right there underneath the surface.

"Those core characteristics… those are you. Always have been and no one can ever take that from you. Those people – Bucky, Sergeant Barnes, the Winter Soldier – they're all you. And now you have to start a new chapter. That doesn't un-write the old ones. And yes, HYDRA wrote a lot of those chapters, but the pen's in your hand again. What happens next, who you are and who you will become, that's your story to write. I have faith that it'll be a great story."

Bucky had to swallow hard. He wasn't sure if it was her characterization of him – one he desperately wanted to believe – or her declaration of faith in him, but he felt strangely light-hearted all of a sudden. For a moment he could believe that whatever lay ahead of him couldn't possibly be too bad. And he realized with startling clarity that, if he asked, she would always fight in his corner. She'd have his back and knowing that made him unexpectedly happy.

Ava gasped when she found herself pulled forward into a tight hug. She was too startled to respond right away, but quickly returned the embrace. His chest was firm, his arms both felt hard as steel around her. Yet warm and pliant in some way. He smelled of the Axe shampoo her father had left behind, leather, and something else that was probably inherently Bucky. All in all she found she liked the smell. Liked the way it felt as if nothing could possibly get to her when he held her like this. Probably because nothing could.

She knew that whatever reservations there had been, on both sides, those ended here. Whatever came next, they'd face it together. At least until it was time for them to go their separate ways again.

The thought made her tighten her hold on him just a little tighter. He hadn't been in her life for long. Barely three days, she realized. It already felt like a lifetime.

Frankly, it was still strange to have someone living with her after years of happily living on her own. But the idea of him leaving again made her irrationally sad. Maybe it came with its inconveniences having him around, but she enjoyed it nonetheless.

_Can't you for once get attached to someone who'll stay?_ she thought. She felt his arms loosen around her and pulled away from him with a silent sigh. It was a warm May day, but it still seemed a little colder now than it had before.

"I called Allard this morning," she said, mostly as a reminder to herself that her time with Bucky was limited. He was here until he had enough of his memories back and felt comfortable in this new world. "He's got some time tomorrow and I said we'd go see him."

"Did you tell him about me?"

"No," she said, turning to head after Lily who was starting to grow impatient with her slow human companions. "I think this is something that can't really be explained over the phone. I just told him I wanted to meet."

Bucky nodded. It would also give him the chance to change his mind and leave if he felt like something was off. "Before we meet him, is there any chance we might be able to make a stop at a barber?"

"You want a haircut?"

Bucky nodded. "It gets in the way," he said, but that was only partly true. The long hair wasn't his choice. It was a choice HYDRA had made for him. Just like everything else in the last decades. He wanted control over himself again. And perhaps it sounded foolish, but cutting his hair, choosing to do that, felt like a step in that direction.

"Alright. Well, if you don't want to wait until tomorrow, I can ask Melody over. She worked as a hairdresser to earn some extra money during college. Besides, she's probably burning to meet you at this point. You know, kill two birds with one stone."

"If you say so." He figured he could still go to the barber if he didn't like the result.

They were almost home by then anyway and quickly finished Lily's round. Bucky went ahead inside with Lily while Ava rang the doorbell at the Dormer's house. It was Louis, Melody's husband and Charlie's stepfather, who opened the door.

"Hey Ava! Can I help you with anything?" he asked in his New Orleans accent, smiling at her kindly.

"Hey Louis. Is Melody home?"

"Yeah sure," he replied and called inside for Melody to come.

"How are you holding up?" Ava asked.

"Not too bad. The physical therapy helps," Louis said, his hand automatically going to his lower back. "It's just a bit difficult at work lately. Gotta be careful with any lifting and stuff like that."

"Hey," Melody said, coming up behind her husband. "Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," Ava answered. "I was actually wondering if you might have some time to give my new roommate a haircut."

"Oh." She looked surprised, but quickly nodded. "Yeah, sure. I can do that. Give me a sec." She headed back into the house to get her old scissors and hair trimmer.

"He behaving?" Louis asked, looking like he was ready to barge over and throw Bucky on the street if Ava negated that.

"A perfect gentleman."

"Good," he grunted.

"Got them," Melody said, holding up her equipment triumphantly. "Let's go. See you in a moment," she said to Louis and followed Ava over to her place.

Bucky was sitting on the edge of the couch, looking a bit too tense for someone who was supposed to get a haircut. Or perhaps it was meeting a stranger that was older than fourteen. In a way, she supposed, her home had become something of a sanctuary for him. A safe place. Having a stranger come here was an invasion. Walking over to the couch, she sat sideways on the backrest behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder, a silent reminder that he was not alone. "Bucky, this is Melody Dormer, Charlie's mom. Melody, meet Bucky Barnes."

"Nice to meet you," Melody said, walking over and offering him her hand with a bright smile. If there was one thing Ava loved about Melody it was her sincere openness for everything and everyone.

"Nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Dormer," Bucky replied, shaking her offered hand. Ava could feel the tension drain from his shoulders. He was still safe.

"Call me Melody," she said, pushing her long blond hair behind her ear. Ava noticed the once-over she was giving Bucky. The final verdict seemed to be in his favor. "So… haircut?" She held up her scissors and trimmer.

"Yes," Ava said, getting up again. "Maybe it would be best to go upstairs. In the bathroom." So that's what they did. Bucky still looked unsure, but not like he was expecting to have a gun shoved under his nose any second.

Melody grabbed the chair out of Bucky's room and put it in front of the sink. "You can sit here, okay?" she told Bucky.

Ava stood in the doorway to Bucky's room, watching as he took a seat and had a towel wrapped around his shoulders. The bathroom was too small for three people moving around comfortably, but she didn't want to leave either.

"You have amazingly soft hair," Melody noted with surprise as she ran her fingers through his hair. "Like it's never gotten any chemical treatment."

Ava bit her tongue and she noticed a tiny smile tug at the corner of Bucky's lip. "Thank you," he simply said.

"Do you have a specific cut in mind?" Melody asked.

"Not really, no," he admitted. "Shorter."

"Alright," she said, getting a glitter in her eyes. Melody loved letting her creativity loose. This very bathroom and almost every other room in the house attested to that. If it had been up to Ava she'd probably still be sitting on cardboard boxes. "Let's have a look then."

Melody leaned forward, to be on Bucky's eye level as she looked over his shoulder into the mirror. "I'm getting a bit of a '30s vibe from you. Bit of a young Clark Gable kind of look maybe. That man was so handsome in _Gone with the Wind_, but I think his hairstyle from _Red Dust_ would suit you better. Bit younger," she said, tilting her head slightly to the side. "Short in the back and at the sides, a bit longer on top. Off-center part. Hmm. I can actually picture it very well."

Ava actually had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. "You know, I can, too."

"Sound good?" Melody asked Bucky.

"I… suppose." Clearly he couldn't quite see what Melody was seeing.

"Alright then."

Melody started off with the scissors and a wet comb, cutting Bucky's hair to a more manageable length. He kept a close eye on the glinting scissors in the mirror, but otherwise seemed alright. When she switched on the electric trimmer, he flinched away, but relaxed again.

Half an hour later, Melody stepped away, taking a look at her work. "What do you think?" she asked Ava.

"Perfect." It did have something of Clark Gable. It definitely had a lot of James Buchanan Barnes, but it was a bit shorter at the top, giving it a slightly more modern edge. "Bucky, do you like it?"

He was staring at his reflection, his eyes slightly widened. "Yeah," he finally answered. "It's great. It's… Thank you."

Melody tipped her head to the side again. "Strange. I've never seen it so clearly before. What it would look like."

"Maybe he reminded you of someone with a haircut like that," Ava said, smirking.

"I'd probably know if I had your memory."

"I'm pretty sure you would." She waited for Melody to pack her things up and say her goodbyes to Bucky. Leading her downstairs again, she opened the front door for her friend. "Thanks, Mel. I owe you big time."

"Is he okay though? He looked like he saw a ghost up there."

"In a way, maybe he did. Amnesia is a strange thing," Ava said, smiling and shrugging to take the weight off the situation. She didn't need Melody to do her own research.

"And his arm?" Melody asked. "I felt it when I bumped his shoulder."

"A prosthetic," Ava answered soberly. "He lost his arm in the war."

"How awful." Melody shook her head sadly. "I hope he'll be okay."

"Eventually."

"You know, the other day when you told me you adopted a stray you forgot to mention how good looking he is."

"I thought Charlie may have mentioned it by now. Besides, that wasn't why I invited him to come here."

"She did, but she's fourteen. She also thinks Justin Bieber and those _One Direction_ kids look good."

Ava laughed. "Yeah, well, we've had our own dark days. But yes, I'll admit Bucky's good looking."

They said their goodbyes and Ava headed back upstairs, finding Bucky still in front of the mirror. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Fine. Just…"

_Overwhelmed_, she finished in her head. "It suits you."

He laughed at that. "I'm surprised she got it this close to what it used to look like."

"I think a part of her kind of remembered our trip to the Smithsonian. Not enough to make the connection, though."

"It's a bit shorter," he noted, pulling at a strand of hair on the top of his head.

"For what it's worth, I like it this way. Something familiar, but kind of new, too." It made him look younger, she thought. Less haunted.

He scratched at his head, looking uncomfortable and Ava had to laugh. "It's all the small, clipped hairs. Come on, lean your head back." He did as she told him and she stepped over to him, combing through his hair with her fingers in quick, waving motions to dislodge the hairs that caused the itching. "You should probably take a shower to get them all out," she advised.

Bucky looked up at her with his bright blue eyes and she distractedly slowed down her combing. "Sorry about the mess."

She took a quick look at all the strands of cut, dark hair lying on the floor and had to keep herself from cringing.

"I know you don't like mess. Obsessive-compulsive disorder. I looked it up." She realized he wasn't just apologizing for the mess in her bathroom.

"Allard calls it _OCD light_. It's not too bad. Besides, I'm more obsessive than compulsive. It's what makes me a good detective. I don't let go." She forced herself to stop running her fingers through his hair when she realized it had absolutely nothing to do with brushing it out anymore. "And sometimes a little bit of a mess isn't all that bad," she added, giving him a warm smile. "Now, I'll clean up in here real quick and then you can take a shower."

He waited in his bedroom while Ava grabbed a vacuum cleaner out of the hall closet and quickly cleaned up the bathroom floor. Once she was done, she gave Bucky the okay to come back in.

While he took a shower, Ava sank onto the couch, patting the cushion beside her for Lily to come up, an invitation the dog didn't refuse for very long. She sighed as she ruffled Lily's fur. She was getting attached to Bucky way too fast. Too soon. Too intense. And the worst part was that it felt so right. Maybe Maggie and Melody had been right all along and she'd been alone for far too long.

But Ava knew herself. She was incapable of doing anything half-heartedly. Not professionally and certainly not privately. She needed to take a step back or she would be the one left hurting when Bucky was ready to walk out of her life again.


	4. Monday, May 12, 2014

**Chapter 04: Monday, May 12, 2014**

Ava woke up to Bucky's screams that night. It took her a second to get her own bearings and when she looked at the clock it read 03:12 AM. She quickly got up and took the shortcut through the bathroom. By the time she got to him, Lily had woken him up, but he was still breathing heavily, his face contorted in pain.

"Bucky? What's wrong?" she asked, sitting down beside him.

"Mm… hurts…" was all he could say. The hand of his metal arm was tightly clenched at her side.

"Where?" She had a feeling she knew.

"Arm," she gasped. "My arm."

"Bucky," she said, leaning over him, to gently turn his face to her. "Look at me, okay? The pain isn't really there. Look at your arm. Look at it." He could barely move, the pain paralyzing him, so Ava helped him lift his head enough to look at the metal limb. "What you are experiencing is called phantom pain. It's in your head," Ava explained. "Try to move your arm. Just the hand if you can." Of course, pain in his head was no less real just for being there. He was in terrible pain, Ava knew that and she had to try to make it stop.

She'd read about the improvement some amputees had shown in mirror box therapy. Bucky didn't need a mirror box. He had a fully functional arm. Maybe that would be enough. "Try to unclench your hand, Bucky." He just had to physically remember that the injured arm wasn't there anymore.

It took a moment, but she saw the metal fingers loosen and Bucky saw it, too. His breathing slowed and his face smoothed as the pain receded. Ava let go of the back of his head, letting him settle back onto the pillow. As she pulled back, she felt a twinge of pain in her chest. She hadn't realized the strain her position had put on her injury. Fortunately, Bucky hadn't noticed, his attention still riveted on his metal hand and he moved it this way and that.

"It felt so real."

"The pain was real," Ava said. "Just not the point of origin." She sighed. Adrenaline was pumping through her blood. There was no way she was going back to sleep now. "I'm going downstairs to get some hot cocoa. Care to join me?"

Bucky stayed silent for a moment, probably trying to discern whether he had a better chance of falling asleep again. "Yeah," he finally decided and rose.

He slept without a shirt on, but she was glad to note that he had a pair of pajama pants on. He was… impressively built, she had to admit. This wasn't the first time she'd noticed, but her head had been somewhere else the other night.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Ava made them some hot cocoa. Bucky remained silent while she worked. She didn't pressure him into talking. People always wanted her to talk, but it didn't always help. Sometimes it just made you remember something you wished you could forget. So Ava would leave it to Bucky to decide whether he wanted to talk or avoid the subject.

Pouring the hot liquid into two mugs, she set one down in front of him on the counter and took her usual seat, holding her mug between her hands to warm them.

"Also something I have to look forward to?" Bucky finally asked.

Ava sighed. "I don't know. Probably yeah."

"Phantom pain," he repeated. "Is there anything that can be done?"

"Therapy. Medication. There is surgery, too, but that's usually a last case scenario thing. Aside from the surgery every other technique has a varied success rate."

"Then why is the surgery a last case thing?"

"Because they have to implant an electrode inside your skull. The idea is that it counteracts the pain stimulus that comes from the missing limb." He looked about as thrilled at the idea of having something else implanted as she'd expected him to be.

"How does something hurt that doesn't exist anymore?"

"The actual mechanism isn't known. In your case, it's probably the memory of the pain that triggers the actual pain. The pain center in the brain is closely linked with long-term memory. When you remember, when you dream about what happened to you, it was so traumatic that it triggers the pain center, makes it remember what it felt like."

"But it stopped again."

"By reminding you that the location of the pain doesn't exist anymore. That you have a new arm."

"What kind of therapies are there?"

"The mirror box therapy is used often, though with varying effects. What I just did was a… variation of the method. I don't think the original version can really be applied to you."

"What's the mirror box therapy?"

"Basically the idea is that the non-existent limb is mentally clenched up in an uncomfortable position and that is what causes the pain. But because a phantom limb is not under voluntary control you can't unclench it, causing the paralytic feeling. So basically the mirror box is used to trick the brain into thinking it's uncramping the missing limb, by sticking the stump into a box that has a mirror on the outside, which is supposed to reflect the still existing limb. Make it look like you still have both. Then, by moving your existing limb, it's supposed to make your brain think that your repositioning both simultaneously. How exactly it works is still unknown and it doesn't always yield the wanted results. It may just be a placebo-effect."

"Placebo?"

"You tell a sick person they're getting a medicine that'll make them healthy again. Make them really believe it. Sometimes, they actually do get better even if all they got was some sugar pills."

"How does that work?"

"Everything in your body is controlled by your brain. Obviously your thoughts and feelings, but also subconscious things like your digestion and your heart rate. It's all regulated up here," Ava explained, tapping her forehead with a finger. "To a certain degree, your health is, too. Convincing your brain that a certain therapy helps makes the brain heal you. Usually it's used as a control treatment in studies for the efficacy of verum drugs, the actual medication, in which case the verum should yield a considerably better result than the placebo."

"Is there anything we can do to make it stop?"

Ava couldn't help but notice that he'd included her in that question. He wanted her help. "You have a limb, so tricking your brain isn't the issue. Your pain is caused by trauma. All you can really do is let the memories come back, work through the trauma and hope for the best. We can try a few therapy methods along the way to alleviate the symptoms. I… will look into potential pain-relief therapies. See if a few of them might work for you." She figured electrical stimulation might be counterproductive if it triggered any other traumatic memories. Same with hot and cold therapy. At least the cold part. "But ultimately if you want to get better you need to remember and then find a way to live with it. Then, with a little luck, the pain might stop."

Bucky fell silent again, staring into his half-empty cocoa mug. "How come a cop with pre-law education knows so much about the brain, phantom pain, placebos, and all that?"

Ava smiled. "Well, I know how to open a book. My work with Allard got me interested in neuroscience and psychology. I did a lot of reading on that. I even considered changing my field of study, but in the end, what I really wanted was to save people from the same pain my dad and I suffered through. So I became I cop instead. Then I started working more closely with victims of crime and the bereaved and got some training."

"I'm in the right hands then," he said, grinning at her. It was only partly a joke.

"I don't know about right hands, but probably the only ones you're going to get right now."

"I'm sorry for putting this all on you," Bucky said, rubbing his forehead.

"I didn't have to take you home, Bucky. I could have left you at that diner. I chose to try to help you. For better or worse, I'm here for you." She gave him a reassuring smile. "Now drink up because I'm just about ready to go back to bed and I think you are, too." He looked awfully tired, slumped over the counter like he was. He nodded and finished off the rest of his drink before getting up and following her upstairs.

"You know you've never answered my question," Bucky said when she reached the door to her bedroom. She turned back with one hand on the door handle, looking at him with a confused expression. He could literally see it in her eyes as they zoned out and she made a quick recap of every conversation they'd ever had. There was only one question she had never answered him.

"What theme my room has," she finally said, breaking out into a smile. She opened the door and gestured for him to take a look. He followed her inside as she switched on the light.

After all the warm and bold colors in the rest of the house, Ava's bedroom was almost like a cooling balm for the senses. The walls were white. The furniture, like in the rest of the house, heavy and dark brown. The rug, the curtains, and the bedding were colored in various shades of blue. The paintings on the walls depicted old sailing ships on the high seas. Above her bed hung an antique looking nautical chart. The bookshelf in this room was as full as the ones in the rest of the house, but it contained a large amount of specialized literature. Mostly, as he'd almost expected, on neuroscience and psychology. Just like she'd told him. There were legal texts, too, but also books on topics like sailing and aviation, travel guides and dictionaries, animal behavior and history, encyclopedias on plants, medical treatments, and medication, amongst other things. He'd seen libraries with less eclectic collections. All of it, he noted, was organized by subject and alphabet.

"What does a cop need a book on the '_Biology of Microorganisms_' for?"

"What? My interests are only allowed to pertain to my work?"

"No, just wondering."

"You never know what kind of knowledge might come in useful," Ava explained.

"Travel," he said aloud, pulling out a travel guide for _Italia_. It was written in Italian. He already knew she spoke Italian. The other travel guides, however, were written in their original languages, too. Spanish, Russian, French, Persian, Arabic. There were dictionaries for Greek, Chinese, and Japanese and other languages in the shelf. "The grand theme of the house. It's all about being somewhere else, isn't it?"

Ava smiled. "It is," she admitted. "I always wanted to travel the world."

"Why aren't you?"

She shrugged. "Work keeps me busy. Usually. And I… haven't felt like travelling lately."

"You designed this room," he realized. "Not the others." It was lighter, airier than the rest of the house. The colors and patterns not as overwhelming.

"Melody did most of it. I'm not very good with interior decorating. And I didn't really have the time for it. I hadn't been with the Homicide Division for long when I moved in and still felt like I had something to prove. I was usually the one to turn on the lights in the morning and the one to turn them off in the evening. Still am sometimes. When there's a new case."

"May I?" he asked, pulling out one of the books on neuroscience. All things considered, it may not hurt to do a little reading on the subject himself.

"Of course."

"Do you speak all those languages?"

"More or less. I learn very quickly," Ava answered with a smile. "You already know I speak Italian and I grew up in Brighton Beach, so I'm also fluent in Russian and Ukrainian. And a few others."

"You sure you're not S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Pretty sure," Ava answered. "I did get an invitation to their party once, though. I declined."

"Why? You'd be one hell of an agent."

"I told you, I'm a cop not a spy. I prefer dealing in facts not fiction." She sat down on the corner of her bed. "And in light of recent revelations, I guess I made the right choice."

"You got away lucky."

She only nodded in response. At the time she'd seriously considered taking S.H.I.E.L.D. up on their offer. It had been tempting. Working for S.H.I.E.L.D. would have meant travelling, seeing a little more of the world. But it wasn't the work she'd wanted to do. And now she was glad because she wouldn't have known whose missions she would have performed. S.H.I.E.L.D. or HYDRA. Perhaps it didn't really make a difference. Either way, she'd ultimately turned them down in favor of her promotion to Detective First Grade.

Bucky sat down beside her, looking down at the book he wanted to borrow. Ava got the feeling he was stalling. She mentally kicked herself. She'd told herself to take a step back, pull away far enough to keep herself from breaking again, instead, she was about to do something incredibly stupid. "Oh come on," she said with a light shake of her head. "You can sleep here tonight. But don't get grabby, I don't like cuddling."

He looked at her like she'd just grown a second head. "Sleep here? With you?"

"With me in my bed, yes," she replied. "We're adults. I think we can act the part and behave."

Bucky seemed simultaneously relieved at not having to sleep alone and dumbfounded at the idea of sharing a bed with her, so Ava got up and went into Bucky's room, grabbing his pillow and blanket and bringing it to him. He still sat hesitantly on the edge of his bed, looking very much like he was ready to bolt.

"You don't have to sleep here," she assured him. "I just get the feeling you don't really want to be alone tonight either. This is the solution." Besides, what did he have to worry about? She was fully dressed in pajama pants and a tank top. He was the one sitting half-naked on her bed.

He took his bedding when she offered it to him and waited until she'd moved hers to the side before placing his pillow next to hers. Ava turned off her alarm clock before settling down into her bed. It was almost four in the morning now and they both needed some rest. Lily would have to wait tomorrow and walk on the leash in the park. She could only walk off the leash until nine AM and again after nine PM so usually Ava tried to walk her when she could run free, but tomorrow would have to be an exception.

She waited for Bucky to lie down before flipping the light switch and engulfing them in darkness. Ava always slept on her left side, meaning, in this case, she'd be facing Bucky. Which, she supposed, was just as well.

When her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she looked over at him and found him lying on his back, stiff-backed as a board. "Relax, I promise I won't assault you," she said.

Bucky let out a deep breath. "Wasn't worried."

"But?"

"I… this is… new. At least as far as I can remember."

"It's sleeping in a bed. There's just someone else there, too. It's no big deal," Ava said. Honestly, she was lying through her teeth. But there was no point in the two of them staying up all night wondering what the hell they were doing.

A creak announced the door being pushed open and the tapping of claws on hardwood could be heard before there was something weighing down the end of the mattress and moving towards them. Lily settled down in the space between them and Ava barely managed to suppress a sigh of relief. Count on Lily to save the day. Or the night as it was. A dog between them made things so much less awkward. Reaching out, she wanted to pat Lily's head, only to find Bucky's hand already there.

Ava actually had to laugh at that. "You'd think a homicide detective and a master assassin could deal with sleeping in the same bed together without acting like school kids."

"Strictly speaking I don't think a homicide detective should share a bed with a master assassin. A pair of handcuffs maybe," Bucky replied, which made Ava laugh even harder.

"If you're into that sort of thing."

"Sorry?" He clearly had no idea what she meant.

"Never mind. I fear you'll understand soon enough," she replied. She doubted very much that being bound and trapped in any way would ever be one of Bucky's preferences though. Not with his past. "Still, I think we can be professionals about this, can't we?"

"If you're into that," he shot back and she could hear the grin in his voice.

"Catching on, are we?"

"About time wouldn't you think?"

"Mm. I kind of liked the innocent guy from the 1940s."

"The 1940s were far from innocent."

"Any dark confessions?"

"Not yet," Bucky answered. He didn't sound particularly upset about it at the moment.

A yawn overcame Ava and she checked the clock to note that another quarter of an hour had passed. She hated to cut this conversation short when Bucky seemed almost cheerful, but she was dead tired. "Try to get some sleep, hmm? If the nightmares come back, I'm right here for you."

She heard the rustle of the pillow case as he gave a nod. He took a deep breath like he was steeling himself for something dreaded. Reaching over Lily, she took his hand in hers. "Relax. You won't be alone." She couldn't tell him that his dreams wouldn't hurt him, because they evidently did. All she could do was let him know that, if the pain came back, she'd be there to help him through it. For now, it would have to be enough though she wished she could do more for him.

"I know," he sighed. "I just… don't want to go back. I don't want to remember all those awful things."

"Then don't," Ava said softly. "Not tonight anyway. Think of pleasant things. Memories you like. Hold on to those." She didn't know if it would help. His mind had a lot to work through and it did so in in his dreams, but maybe he could influence the severity of his dreams. At least a little bit.

Ava forced herself to stay awake until Bucky's eyes were closed and his breathing had evened out. Once she was sure he'd fallen asleep she let herself drift off as well.

She did not end up getting much sleep that night. Bucky hadn't woken up again, but he would begin stirring restlessly when his dreams took turns for the worse and Ava would wake up from that. She would lie next to him, whispering soothingly, holding on to his hand and rubbing circles onto the back of it with her thumb. She didn't know if he even noticed, but after a while he would always calm down again and drift into a deeper state of sleep.

By the time it was six in the morning Ava knew she'd lost the fight. For years her alarm clock had woken her early and since she'd gotten Lily she hadn't even had the chance to sleep in on her free weekends. Despite her body being tired, her brain was up and wouldn't let her fall asleep anymore as it went through its morning ritual. Every morning when she woke up, Ava's brain scrolled through details of that date from previous years. And those details always profoundly affected her day. She had no blank slates, no fresh days that weren't already colored by associations of twenty-two other days that fell on that specific date.

May 12. The previous year it had been a Sunday and she'd spent the day with Lily and Charlie at the park. The year before that she'd spent a nice Saturday with Margaret. For once not in the morgue. Ten years ago she'd woken up in bed with a soldier. Not unlike today actually. Though ten years ago there had been no dog between the man and her and she'd been madly in love.

Now she was lying in bed watching the early morning light shift on the ceiling and listening to the deep breaths of her two companions. She grinned when she realized Bucky and Lily were breathing almost synchronously. Usually Lily was already up at this time, waiting for Ava to get ready so they could do their morning round before breakfast while the park still allowed dogs to run free, but not when there was a chance to cuddle in bed. Lily had clear priorities there.

Ava had been surprised how well Lily had taken to him. While she was generally friendly with most people, a stranger couldn't make her walk away from Ava and her home as easily as Bucky had done. Not after knowing each other for so short a time. It had taken a long time before Charlie had been able to walk Lily without having to drag her away from Ava. But as far as Lily was concerned, Bucky was her love at first sight. Perhaps Lily saw something special in him. Or perhaps she simply loved to be needed and she understood that Bucky needed her quite a lot. Maybe a bit of both. Either way they looked adorable as they cuddled together while they slept and made Ava wish she'd taken her cellphone with her the night before to make a photo now. She could remember without it, of course, but she liked looking at photos of happy little moments when bad memories seemed to flood her brain. It helped her break out of those dark thoughts.

She wondered if it would help Bucky if she managed to find old photos of him. Moments that held good memories for him. She'd have to consider that. Though she wasn't sure how and where to find photos of significant meaning.

Sighing, Ava moved onto her side. Bucky was still fast asleep and she had no idea how long he'd still be out. Unfortunately, she'd never been the type who could lounge in bed all day. Her side of the bed was up against the wall so she had to quietly slide to the end of the bed to get up without waking Bucky. Lily woke and watched but made no move to follow. With a low grunt she settled her head back on Bucky's arm.

Silently Ava made her way into the bathroom to get ready by taking a quick shower and blow-drying her hair, leaving it in a damp state that would finish drying fast enough on its own. When she returned to the bedroom, she found there was no need to be stealthy anymore. Bucky was lying on the bed, turned towards her, his blue eyes focusing on her as she entered the room. "Morning. I hope I didn't wake you."

"No," he replied, sitting up. "Lily got up and took the shortcut over me to get out of bed."

Ava chuckled. "Yeah, sometimes she's a bit of a pain."

"I'm starting to notice." He got up and stretched. "Bathroom free?"

"Hmm?" Ava was torn from her focus on the stretching and bunching of his stomach muscles. "Oh. Yeah. It's free." It was her greatest fortune that blushes were hard to see on her skin.

"Still tired?"

She clung to the excuse he had so readily provided. "Yeah. The night was more or less over for me after our nightly cup of hot cocoa."

"Sorry." He came up to her, stopping so close in front of her that she could feel the heat radiating off of him.

Ava swallowed. "Don't be. I'll be fine. Probably gonna take a nap on the couch before our meeting with Allard."

Bucky nodded. "Thank you. For letting me stay with you last night. I slept a little better."

"I'm glad to hear it." And she truly was. She could live with a bad night's sleep if it allowed Bucky to get some rest. "I'll go and get breakfast ready."

Ava put some much-needed space between them as she went downstairs into the kitchen and started making French toast. "Idiot," she berated herself. Had she learned nothing? Bucky wasn't here to stay and she had no guarantee that he would ever come back when he walked away. And he would walk away. That's who he was. It was what he wanted.

She cursed under her breath when she burned the first toast.

"Everything alright?"

She nearly jumped a foot in the air when she heard Bucky behind her. "Good God, you scared me."

"I swear it was unintentional."

"Yeah, I believe that. My vigilance has suffered during my leave of absence. You're not the first one who's snuck up on me lately."

"You seem a little jumpy today. Is everything alright?"

"It's just the date," Ava admitted. "It holds some bitter-sweet memories for me. They rattle me a bit." Bucky's head tilted slightly to the side in a silent prompt. It was a gesture she was sure was more Bucky Barnes than Winter Soldier. "Today ten years ago was the last time I saw a very good friend. The next day he shipped out to Iraq. Never came back."

The sympathy in his eyes was definitely more Bucky than Winter Soldier. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to make you–"

"Remember?" she finished for him with a pained smile. "You don't have to. I always remember."

Bucky decided to say nothing as he took his seat at the counter. Ava was in a strange mood today and he had no idea how to handle it. But Ava had told him that if he had bad memories haunting him it had to be his choice whether or not he wanted to talk about them, so he figured the same held true in reverse. He knew she would answer if he asked, she always did, so he didn't ask. It would feel like prying and, maybe, what Ava needed right now was some space.

"I can walk Lily after breakfast if you'd like me to," he finally said, giving her the chance to get that space.

Ava said nothing as she thought about his offer. Finally she sighed and turned from the stove to look at him. "No, I'd like to walk her together if it's all the same to you. I could use some fresh air. Besides, it's such nice weather out. It'd be a shame to waste it."

Bucky nodded in agreement. The sky was blue and it was going to be a very warm day. No need for jackets today, but he'd stick to long sleeves and his glove in public.

Ava remained silent as she finished preparing their breakfast and as she poked listlessly at her meal. She'd only eaten a few bites by the time Bucky finished his breakfast and she pushed it aside to get ready for the walk. With a sigh he followed her into the hallway and put on his shoes. It wasn't until they'd reached a bench near the Monument that Ava sat down and gestured for him to join her.

"I'm sorry, Bucky," she started when he settled beside her. "I don't want you to think I'm shutting you out. It's just… having you here with me today… having you wake up in my bed this morning… it threw me off a little more than I thought it would."

"That friend you lost," he asked, "he was more than just a friend?"

She smiled wistfully. "We were… sort of engaged."

"Really?"

"Well… it wasn't official with a ring or anything. Just an exchange of promises. That I'd wait for him. And that he'd come back to me. I waited. He broke his promise."

"It must have been pretty serious."

"I was nineteen," Ava said. "Everything felt serious." She took a deep breath, pushing her hair behind her ear. "He was actually a lot like you."

"Amnesiac?"

"No," she laughed. He was glad he got her to laugh again. She'd seemed so lost at breakfast. "Daniel was kind and had a good heart. Good looking and with the kind of easy smile all the girls adored. He believed that it was his duty to protect his country. He was my best friend in high school and after my mom's death it was Daniel who could make me smile again. He put me back together. And when he died, too…"

"Is he the reason you asked for Dr. Allard's help?"

"Yes. And no. His death was the cause of… my depression. But not just his. Losing him just dragged up how helpless I'd felt when my mom had died. How lost and vulnerable. It all just kind of snowballed into one and it broke me all over again. Like I'd only just lost the both of them. But there was no one who made an effort to pick up the pieces this time. My dad was too busy dealing with his own grief, still a drunk at the time, and I didn't really have anyone else. I was always different. People didn't really understand me. And I hadn't really learned how to relate to them yet. So I was alone. Until I met Allard. Otherwise… I might not be sitting here."

Her last confession made Bucky swallow hard. He had figured that she'd been in a bad condition, but he had underestimated the full force of what she must have gone through. "If it's all the same to you, I'm glad you're sitting here."

Her laugh was bright and dispelled some of the gloominess from her face. "So am I, believe me. It's just always right there in my mind. Like no time has passed. I remember how happy I was that he was with me that day. And how sad at the fact that he'd be deploying the next day. I couldn't even imagine what it would be like if he'd die overseas. That was something that happened to others. Not Daniel. Only… it did happen." And the worst part was, after ten years, she still fell for the man with one foot out the door and little chance of coming back.

She was almost relieved that she'd been attracted to Bucky before today. It wouldn't have been the first time that her mind had tricked her by overlapping the emotions she felt in memories with current situations. It would have been unfair to the both of them if the feelings she remembered she'd once had for Daniel would carry over and transmit onto Bucky. If she fell for him, which she stupidly was, she wanted to fall for Bucky. Not for the shadow of someone who was already gone. As real as it felt whenever she remembered Daniel, she knew she didn't love him anymore. Ten years were long enough, even for someone with her memory.

Ava closed her eyes and thought of the image of Bucky and Lily cuddling in bed that morning and she had to smile.

"What?" Bucky asked.

"Focusing on a good memory," she replied, opening her eyes again. "It helps me. Makes me feel better again."

"What memory?"

"You and Lily in bed this morning." He cleared his throat awkwardly and Ava had to laugh. "It was _very_ cute. The master assassin with his little puppy dog. You looked _so_ intimidating."

"When was the last time Lily slept on you? Because I can assure you there's nothing little about that puppy dog."

Ava sniggered at that. "You do know that you don't have to let her sleep on you, right?"

"Turns out I have a hard time saying no to pretty girls."

"From what I've read online, the girls had a hard time saying no to you, too."

"Is that so?" He turned to her, his head slightly tilted to the side and a disarmingly charming smile on his face. Ava had to agree with those girls. That smile was very hard to resist. "Is it working on you?"

Ava snorted, hiding the true effect it did have on her. "1940s girls must not have been very hard to impress."

"Ouch." He did not look offended. She just hoped he didn't see right through her little act. There might have been an attraction, but whether or not she would act on it was up to her. Bucky was not in a place to start something and Ava wasn't in a place to start something with Bucky. "Guess I'll have to – what's the phrase? – _step up my game_ in this century."

"Charlie teach you that?"

"She's very useful."

"I'm sure Melody wouldn't mind if you babysat her."

"I think Charlie would mind if you called it that."

"Fair enough."

Ava felt a good deal better with the world on their way back home. It wasn't just the fact that Bucky had managed to cheer her up that surprised her, it was the fact that he'd cared enough to try.

Once home, Bucky made himself ready for a run while Ava laid down on the couch. A part of her wanted to go on a run with him. It had been a while since she'd been jogging and she missed it. But she wasn't ready and even if she was, she'd probably embarrass herself trying to keep up with him, so she let him go alone and made up for her sleep deprivation. Lily sidled up to her, curling up at Ava's side. "Big baby," Ava mumbled before falling asleep.

Bucky returned about an hour later and took a shower before coming downstairs again and stepping into the living room. Ava was still asleep, so he quietly made his way around the couch, grabbed her laptop and the list she'd made him and settled into the armchair. Looking over at her, he had to grin. "Very cute indeed." At least they were sort of even now. Though she would remember him cuddling with Lily better than he'd remember her. Unless…

He got up and grabbed her smartphone off the coffee table. Crouching in front of the couch he snapped a photo. Looking down at the screen he found the photo didn't really do Ava any justice, but he was glad enough to note that he knew how to navigate basic smartphone options. No point expecting to be a professional photographer, too.

She was beautiful though, he thought as he looked up from the phone's screen. She had inherited the Mediterranean features of both her parents and a dash of Middle Eastern from her mother's side. He couldn't remember any women he may have dated but he couldn't imagine any of them being like Ava. She was clever and intelligent, kind and caring, willing to sacrifice her own comforts to help a stranger. And he certainly hadn't forgotten that she'd approached him the night they'd met instead of getting in her car and driving off so she was either extremely brave or terribly reckless. Either way it was safe to assume that she was the type who usually got herself into trouble. Especially considering her line of work.

She was strong, too, that he was certain of. If her memories were only half as clear and detailed as his nightmares – and he knew by now that they were – then the losses she'd experienced, still experienced in a way, would have broken anyone weaker. He saw how hard it was at times for her to keep her past at bay, to keep it from consuming her. He admired her for that. He had gotten only a few memories back and already he was having difficulties dealing with them. As more memories came back, Bucky knew it would only become harder. If nothing else, he believed Ava could teach him to put the past behind him. To learn to live with his memories.

Until then Bucky would enjoy her company. He was only afraid he'd enjoy it too much. He already felt too attached to her. Perhaps it shouldn't surprise him. She'd been the first person in a long time that had extended a helping hand to him. HYDRA had starved him of human affection and now, maybe, a subconscious part of him was trying to make up for lost time. Or perhaps it was just something about her. Whichever it was, he needed to tread carefully. He had a plan and he needed to focus on getting better so he could put that plan into action. He couldn't lose sight of that.

With a sigh he righted himself again, putting the phone back where it had been and taking up the laptop again, trying to concentrate on the things Ava believed he should know about.

It wasn't until several hours later that Ava woke up again, feeling considerably more refreshed. It didn't take her more than one look to notice her smartphone had been moved. "Tell me it's a good picture."

"I like it," Bucky replied without looking up from his screen. "Tell me, is it normal for women in this decade to send naked pictures of themselves and very… indecent invitations?"

Ava had to laugh. "Not unusual I'm afraid. But there probably isn't a woman on the other end of that invitation. At least not the woman from the photo." She got up to inspect the damage he may have caused. It wasn't too bad. Just a few pop-ups. He fortunately hadn't clicked on any of them.

"Who else then?"

"Someone making money with whatever porn site they're trying to sell you."

"Why would they send those to you?"

"They send them to everyone," Ava answered, closing the pop-up windows and starting an anti-virus program just to be on the safe side.

"Maybe it's the innocent 1940s guy talking, but I think I preferred it when women made mysteries of themselves."

"Pin-up girls were not your thing?"

"This isn't pin-up."

"Fair enough. Just click them away when they pop up. We should get ready now anyway. Allard's got a free period in about half an hour."

A few minutes later they were in the car on their way to Manhattan. The noon traffic was manageable, but it was still New York.

"There weren't this many cars in New York when I left it," Bucky noted, watching the traffic with a note of irritation on his face.

"They looked better, too," Ava said. "Like the Chrysler New Yorker, the Adler 2-liter, Audi 920, the Rolls-Royce Wraith from '38, the MG WA, the Daimler Consort from '41, or basically all the 1930s Buicks. Gorgeous."

"And then there was the Simca 8 and the Wolseley Ten. At least the vans look better now. Back then they looked like the Citroën TUB or the Harvester Metro Van."

"When's your birthday?" Ava asked. Her tone made him feel like it was a trick question.

"No idea."

"You can't remember your own birthday, but cars are no problem? You are such a guy," she laughed.

"Since when is being a guy a bad thing?"

"It's not," Ava replied, still giggling. "It's March 10, by the way."

"Maybe I should look myself up," Bucky sighed. "Can't have you know more about me than I know myself."

"Facts and figures. They don't make the man."

"Then what does?"

"The heart," she answered. "And you know more about what's in there than I do."

"I don't really know what's in there."

"Yes you do. Sometimes it's just hard to see. You'll find it again, don't worry."

They reached the university, standing in front of the spot where their paths had crossed for the very first time. It was hard to believe that it hadn't even been four days ago. Ava led Bucky to Allard's office and knocked.

There was no answer.

Ava knocked again. Still nothing.

"Maybe he's still in a lecture?" Bucky said. But he was frowning, his shoulders tense, ready to fall into action.

"The lecture should have ended ten minutes ago." If there was one thing about Allard that people could count on, it was the fact that he was a creature of habit. If his lecture was over, he'd be here in his office, eating his lunch. He didn't like the cafeteria food. Besides, she'd called him and told him she'd be dropping by today.

Trying the door handle Ava found the door unlocked. Now her own back went rigid. If he wasn't in his office, Allard always locked his door. Something was not right.

Slowly, she opened the door, giving the room a quick sweep as she stepped in, making sure there was no one else here. The room was empty.

"Nothing," Bucky said, looking around the room, maybe expecting something to jump out at him.

"No, there is something." Ava had been here only a few days ago. Not much would have changed in that time. Especially with a weekend in between. And to anyone else nothing would have looked different. But Ava saw it. Someone had gone through Allard's things. Very systematically and very carefully. Whoever had searched the room hadn't wanted anyone to notice, but Ava saw the things that had been moved. Subtle misplacements, but impossible to miss for someone with her memory and slight OCD. "Someone searched this office. And whoever it was took his time. Knew he wouldn't be interrupted."

"Did they take anything?"

"I'm not sure," Ava said, focusing on the desk. "There was a digital picture frame here. It had photos of his daughter Emma and her family. They live in England so Allard doesn't see them very often. It was here on Friday, now it's gone."

"Why would they take a picture frame?"

"I don't know."

She took a walk around the room, taking a good look at every corner. Never knew what might come in useful later. She also checked the door again but there were no signs of forced entry. Someone had either had a key, or had picked the lock. Once she was finished her inspection she grabbed her phone and dialed the dean's office. They let her know that no, Allard hadn't been in today and no, he hadn't called in with an excuse either.

When she hung up, she looked over at Bucky. He'd been silent the whole time but she could see in his eyes the same conclusion that she'd come to; something was very wrong.

"I'll go to his place," Ava said. "But first I'll drop you off at h–"

"No," Bucky protested. "I'll come with you."

"Bucky–"

"I'm coming with you. Whoever searched this place might still be at Dr. Allard's home and you're unarmed." He needed to go with her, make sure she was safe. Protect her. It was some deeply ingrained instinct.

"So are you," Ava noted.

"No really an issue for me," Bucky replied with a shrug.

"Alright fine," Ava agreed with a sigh, "But be careful not to get noticed. Weapons you might be able to deal with, but if the wrong people become aware of your existence it'll be the law and politics raining hell down upon you."

"I'll keep my head down, I promise."

They went to the car and Ava drove back to Brooklyn. Allard had a house in Manhattan Beach near the Kingsborough Community College and the Manhattan Beach Park. She tried not to get distracted by all the childhood memories as she drove by the places she'd known from growing up in Brighton Beach. All of Coney Island had been her personal amusement park and the memories were accordingly numerous.

"It's all so different," Bucky said, leaning against the window as he looked out. "This city barely holds any memories."

"I think I would have liked to see New York in the '40s."

"Maybe one day I'll be able to explain to you what it looked like."

"That would be nice."

She already saw the blue light of police sirens before she turned the corner to Allard's house. Parking down the road, she got out of the car. Bucky followed her, but she turned to stop him. "Stay with the car, Bucky. Please. There's a house full of cops here. I don't want any of them asking more questions than we can answer."

She saw his jaw tighten in displeasure, but he finally gave her a nod. Ava left him standing by the car and hurried towards the roped off area. Her heart stopped as she recognized her colleagues Detective Robert Gates and Sergeant Sean Parsons. The Homicide Division was here. Which meant that all help came too late for her friend.

"Rob! Sean!" she called out, before they could head back into the house.

"Ava?" Rob said, turning to her. "What are you doing here?"

"How did you know about Allard?" Sean wanted to know.

"I was supposed to meet him at the university," she explained, leaving Bucky out. "When I saw that someone searched his office I came here."

"His office was searched?" Sean asked. "Was anything taken?"

"There was a digital picture frame missing from his desk. Nothing else as far as I could tell." She'd never gone through the drawers of his desk or the file cabinet in the corner of his office so she wouldn't be able to tell if anything was missing anyway. She could leave that to the CSU.

"You should go home, Ava. You're not cleared for duty yet," Sean said.

"Please, Sean, let me see him. If he was murdered I want to find out who did it."

"We'll do that."

"Come on, Sean, you know she'll just find a way," Rob intervened.

Sean sighed. "Alright, come on. But let us know if it's too much for you." Ava nodded and he waved away the uniform who had come over to make Ava leave the crime scene. "She's with us."

The living room was as meticulous as the office. She hadn't been here in a very long time so she couldn't determine whether the items around the room had been moved by Allard or by someone looking for something. She told Sean as much when he asked.

Allard's home office looked very different though. All the books from the shelves, the papers and knick-knacks from the desk were strewn across the floor. Allard's body was sitting in his office chair. His head was tilted back all the way like frozen in the windup to a huge sneeze. Large, dark stains showed where blood had pooled on his lap and dripped down onto the floor around his feet. It also covered the front of his button-down shirt, starting from a perforating injury in his chest.

The CSU guys in their white coveralls were already busy dusting the room for prints and collected samples from the carpet.

Ava had to steady herself against the doorframe as a rush of emotions nearly knocked her off her feet. She was angry. Angry at whoever had done this. Confused why it had happened. Why Allard. Why now. But above all she felt a terrible sadness take hold of her. She'd never dealt with loss very well and the one person who'd helped her through one of the darkest times in her life was lost to her now, too.

"You okay?" Rob asked quietly at her side.

Ava nodded, straightening again. This was not the place for a meltdown. Not at a crime scene in front of all her colleagues. She also needed to keep it together because she'd be of no use in finding Allard's killer if she didn't. "Did the ME already take a look at him?"

"Dr. Deering looked at him a few moments ago. Then she left to take a call," Rob explained. "She'll probably be back in a moment."

Usually Ava would take a closer look at the body herself, look for any markings that might reveal the killer's pattern, but she couldn't bring herself to go any nearer. Instead, she remained standing in the doorway and took in the rest of the room. Rob and Sean went outside into the yard through the French doors in the office, leaving Ava alone with the CSU team.

"Looks like he was tortured." Ava started at the sound of Bucky's voice right behind her.

"What the hell are you doing in here? I asked you to wait by the car!" she hissed so the CSU guys couldn't hear her.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," he said, looking slightly guilty.

The flare of anger at him dissipated almost as quickly as it had come and she took a deep breath to calm herself after the shock. It was hard to be angry at genuine concern. "How did you get past the uniforms anyway?"

"Told them I was with you," he said with a shrug. "That seemed to be enough."

Ava rolled her eyes, turning back to the office. "You say he was tortured?"

Bucky walked past her into the room and towards Allard's body. The corpse didn't seem to disturb him much. "Somebody righted them again, but his fingers are obviously broken," he said, pointing out the bluish discolorations where blood had pooled under the skin. "And," he added, leaning forward a bit, to take a closer look at the side of Allard's head, "there are tiny prick marks inside the ear canal. Probably from a sharp, thin instrument. Not lethal but incredibly painful. Someone wanted answers. Single stab wound to the chest killed him after."

This was the first time since they'd met that Ava truly realized who Bucky had been before he'd come to her. "Glad to know he didn't have to suffer," she said sarcastically.

Bucky righted himself, looking at her with wide eyes, like he just remembered who the dead man was. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to–"

She held up her hand to stop him. "It's fine, Buck. Thank you."

"A fine analysis, too," came Maggie's voice from behind Ava. Ava huffed in annoyance. She really needed to get back to work. It did not do that everyone could sneak up on her nowadays. "You an ME?" she asked Bucky.

"No ma'am," he replied. "Soldier."

"Really?" Maggie's grin widened as she gave Bucky a once-over. "You and I have to talk," she said to Ava. Ava rolled her eyes at Maggie.

"I'm Dr. Margaret Deering, but you can call me Maggie. I'd shake your hand, but…" she raised her own gloved ones.

"James Barnes," Bucky replied with a courteous nod. He seemed to have a harder time figuring out what to do with Maggie than he had with Melody.

"Anyway," Maggie said, "Mr. Barnes here is right. Dr. Allard was tortured and then killed by a single stab wound to the heart. At least those are my preliminary findings. I'll have to do an autopsy and a tox screen to be sure, of course."

"When did he die?" Ava said.

"Body temperature would put the prelim TOD window at twelve to eighteen hours ago, so around eight PM to two AM. I'll be able to narrow that window once I have him at the morgue and get the chance to run the lividity and the rest of the course."

"So sometime in the night. Who called the police?"

"The neighbor. She saw him from her backyard when she came out to do some yard work. Apparently she can see into his office window."

"But she saw nothing last night or this morning?" Bucky asked.

"The roller blinds are automatic," Ava answered, looking at the windows. "They go up and down at set times of the day. She wouldn't have seen anything until they came up this morning. Did any of the neighbors report hearing anything? I can't imagine he let himself be tortured in silence."

"You'll have to ask Gates and Parsons about that," Maggie said. "I prefer talking to the dead rather than the living."

Bucky gave Ava a questioning look, but she just shrugged. Maggie was hard to explain on the best of days. At this point, Ava had stopped trying. He could make his own assessment of the ME. "I'll ask them. Bucky, please stay in here." Maggie was one thing, two highly capable detectives another. Especially since she'd talked to Rob about the Winter Soldier. She didn't want to risk him putting two and two together.

Going out into the yard she found her partner and her supervisor talking to each other. They fell silent as she approached. "Did any neighbors hear something last night?" she asked straight away. She didn't want to give them a chance to give her pitying looks. She could do this as long as she focused on seeing Allard as one of the many other victims she'd gotten justice for. She did not need a reminder that it was personal right now.

"The neighbors were out last night. Opera. They didn't come back until shortly after midnight," Rob said, nodding towards the fence to his left. That was the property closest to Allard's office. Probably where the neighbor who'd found him lived.

"No signs of forced entry," Sean noted. "Dr. Allard must have let his killer in."

"So they probably knew each other," Ava concluded.

"Are you familiar with any of Allard's friends?" Rob asked.

"He has a girlfriend. Caroline Saunders. And a daughter, Emma Gilbert. She lives in England with her husband. I don't know of anyone else."

"Well, it's something," Sean sighed.

"Let me work on this," Ava said to Sean.

"Ava, I can't let you come into work until your doctor declares you fit for duty. And even if you came back, this is personal for you, so I can't let you on the case anyway."

"You're right," Ava replied heatedly. "This is personal. It's always personal for me. It's what makes me good at this job."

"It's what'll burn you out," Sean replied. "And this is more personal than the other cases. Take my advice, Ava, and stay home. Finish recovering. I promise you, we'll find whoever did this. We're not exactly amateurs ourselves, you know."

Ava sighed. She knew she wasn't going to sway Sean's opinion. He was a great detective, and a good man, but while he didn't mind bending the one or other small rule, he was also the SDS and responsible for his officers and he wasn't going to put Ava in a situation he felt was bad for her. "Fine. But let me know when you find something, okay?"

"You'll be the first to know," Sean promised.

Saying goodbye to the two of them, she went back towards the house.

Bucky watched Ava go outside with a feeling of unease. She was clearly trying to cover up her distress and he didn't like leaving her alone in that state.

"She'll be fine." He turned to the medical examiner at her words. She was leaning over the body, taking another close look at it.

"Ma'am?"

"Ava, she'll be okay. In time," Dr. Deering repeated, looking up at him. "But it might not hurt for her to have someone around. She doesn't mind helping others with their burdens, but she rarely opens up enough to let others return the favor. Even after she's learned how beneficial it can be to ask for help. And this'll be especially tough. Has she told you about how she met Dr. Allard?"

"Yes," he simply responded. He wasn't quite sure yet if he liked Dr. Deering.

"Impressive. She must trust you a lot. Took her a long time to confide in me."

Bucky was taken aback by that comment. Ava had been nothing but open and honest with him and he hadn't even realized that she might not usually extend that curtesy to strangers. Or, apparently, even to people she knew.

"Neighbors were out that night. Didn't come home until after he was dead. Shortly after midnight," Ava said as she reentered the room.

"We'll see if the autopsy can confirm whether he was dead before midnight," Maggie said. Looking up, she gave Ava a sympathetic look. "I'm really sorry, Ava."

Bucky watched as Ava opened and closed her mouth without a word escaping. He had a feeling that her facade was wavering. It wasn't hard to notice that she'd been avoiding looking directly at the corpse. Now she was. He could see the moment the situation took hold of her as her breathing quickened and became shallow.

"Would you mind if we went home now? I think I'd like to get out of here," Bucky said to Ava, snapping her out of her thoughts and giving her an excuse that wouldn't compromise her in front of her colleagues and, more importantly, in front of herself.

"Yes, of course," she finally said. She moved almost mechanically across the room and towards the front door.

Bucky said goodbye to Dr. Deering, who gave him a quick thumbs up and a smile, before following Ava.

Once by the car, he took the keys from her. "I can't let you drive. This is an unmarked. Besides you have no license."

"Which only matters if we get caught," Bucky replied, gently nudging her over to the passenger side. The lack of fight she put up was worrying to say the least.

Getting in the car himself, he had to readjust the seat and the mirrors. Admittedly, he hadn't been entirely sure he even knew how to drive, but as he sat in front of the wheel, it felt familiar. He knew what he had to do. So he started the engine and drove off. Sticking to the speed limit was a little harder and he had to concentrate not to accelerate too much. Apparently traffic violations weren't a priority when on missions.

Ava remained silent throughout the drive and by now Bucky had no trouble recognizing the far off look that told him she was stuck somewhere in her past. He wanted to pull her back, but he had the feeling, for now, maybe she needed to remember. It's what she'd told him after all; the point was to remember and then learn to live with it.

He parked in front of Ava's house and they went inside. "Good you know how to drive," Ava said. It was the first thing she'd said to him in forty minutes. "Now if only you had a driver's license." She smiled but it was fake and it made Bucky cringe inwardly that she felt the need to put up a front for him. She was pulling away from him.

"Ava–" he started.

"I've got some work to do," she said, cutting him off. Taking off her shoes, she hurried toward the stairs and went down into the basement.

Sighing, he turned to find Lily sitting in the doorway to the living room, looking expectant. It was her time for a walk. "Fine, come on." He grabbed the leash. He didn't like the idea of leaving Ava alone right now, but he wasn't going to reach her right now anyway. Maybe he'd have some better luck when he got back.

He kept the walk to just under an hour. When he came back to the house the living room was still empty. Ava wasn't upstairs in the bedrooms either. What was she doing in the basement? Deciding to better go check, he went down the stairs and into the party room/home gym.

Bucky found Ava sitting on the weight bench, studying a whiteboard. It had been empty the first time he'd come down here. Now Ava had drawn a timeline on it and marked the time between 08:00 PM and 02:00 AM as TOD and shortly after midnight she'd added the information that the neighbors had returned from the opera.

"What are these marks?" he asked, pointing at small arrow symbols, one pointing down at 08:00 PM, one up at 06:00 AM.

"That's the times Allard programed into his automatic roller blinds," Ava explained tonelessly. "Assuming the neighbors spoke the truth and they really saw nothing it would narrow the window of time of death from eight to midnight. Maggie will have to confirm that though."

"Are you supposed to be doing this?"

"Nothing illegal about making a timeline."

"I'm assuming you don't plan on leaving it empty."

Ava sighed. "I can't sit around and do nothing. Allard saved my life and I…"

_Was too late_, he finished in his head. "It's not your fault. You couldn't have seen this coming."

"I keep going over our meeting last Friday. See if I missed anything."

"Did you?"

She shook her head slowly. "He was acting like he always did. There was nothing out of place. Nothing unusual about him or the office. I saw no one around campus that shouldn't have been there. Aside from you anyway."

"If it was someone Allard knew he might not have known he was in danger."

"That's what I talked to Rob and Sean about. How did you know?"

"No signs of a break-in."

"You wouldn't be half bad as a cop."

"The source of my knowledge might be an issue with that."

Ava bit her lower lip as she contemplated something. "Could you… could you tell how long he had to suffer?"

"Do you really want to know that?"

"It's relevant to the timeline."

"Maybe an hour," Bucky said. "Not too long as far as torture goes. He either broke quick or his killer realized he wouldn't talk."

She took a deep breath, straightening up in her seat. "That's still a very long time." Her voice broke and she looked away, blinking rapidly. "There is some frozen pizza in the freezer upstairs. If you're hungry."

"What about you?"

"I'll grab something later," Ava replied. "I want to do some more here."

Bucky tried to think of something to do to stay or to get her to go upstairs, but Ava insisted on staying in the basement. Alone. Eventually, after she'd explained to him how to heat up the pizza, he went upstairs. He didn't feel particularly hungry so he didn't bother with a pizza, grabbed some bread and cheese instead.

He kept thinking of how to get through to Ava. After her openness toward him, he hadn't expected those walls to come up so quickly. He considered going back downstairs, but she'd made it clear he wasn't welcome there at the moment. He'd have to wait for her to come up.

But he didn't see Ava for the rest of the day.


End file.
